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targaryenimagines · 5 months ago

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Twin Flames

Dark!Daenerys Targaryen x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 8,219

Summary: With your due date drawing nearer, you begin to wonder what sort of life you’re going to be bringing into the world; dealing with your constantly fluctuating emotions is easier than facing the thoughts that grace your mind during the midnight hours. You should have known it’d only be a matter of time before your dragon became aware.

Warning(s): G!P Daenerys, grief, self worth issues, allusions to sex, and descriptions of labor/childbirth (non-graphic).

Notes: This shifted around from what I had initially planned, but I can’t say that I’m upset with how it turned out! I hope you all enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it for you all! Thank you to @justyourwritter69 for the wonderful inspiration — it may not be exactly what you had been thinking of, but I hope you like it all the same!

Series Masterlist

Warm palms run up the sides of your heaving body — still coiled tightly from the last shockwaves of ecstasy passing through — pulling you ever closer, even as a light laugh is hidden in the crook of your neck, the large grin stretched across your wife’s lips being more than apparent when she nuzzles the sweaty expanse of skin.

“I have to admit,” Daenerys pants, pressing one last lingering kiss to the underside of your jaw, before pulling back to peer down at you: silvery-gold hair acting as a curtain, cutting off the rest of the world entirely. “You might be starting to wear me out, dearest one.”

You arch a brow, legs opening to allow for Daenerys to comfortably settle once more between them; the heat radiating from her back, when you stroke a gentle finger down the length of her spine, offering a sense of comfort that no quilt ever could. “I wasn’t aware that was a possibility,” you tease, a lightness to your tone that caused Daenerys’ own smile to grow that much more. “In fact, I believe it was you who kept me up all night in Meereen. Because, and I quote, you wanted to watch the sun set and rise while being inside of me.” A huff of laughter falls from your lips. “Where has that woman gone to?”

Violet eyes roll skyward, but the open fondness within her gaze, and the bone-deep adoration etched across her face, never wavers in the slightest. “She’s still here, ñuha perzys. Very much so.” As if to prove her point, Daenerys ruts softly against you; letting you feel the extent of the influence you had upon her body. “But I can’t do all of the things I wish to do to you. Not when you’re carrying such precious cargo.”

A brilliant grin stretches across your face at the reminder — even as one of Daenerys’ palms slides from its place on your hip to the growing swell of your abdomen.

Precious cargo, you muse, taking in the sight of your Khaleesi’s peaceful expression. Your twins.

It had come as quite a shock to you when you discovered that you could potentially be having twins from the Palace Healer; a wave of complex emotions crashing over you as Daenerys had puffed up at the thought. It’s a trait you couldn’t help but admire in your wife. You had only ever seen her truly shaken a few times in your long relationship, even when she was the young would-be conqueror trying to find her way in the world, she rarely ever allowed herself to fall.

So, while you were swept into the tide of varying emotions, Daenerys stood as a sturdy rock beside you, preening with pride and jubilation at the fact that she’d soon have two more children to love, to adore, to protect.

In a manner she wasn’t able to before. A thought that had caused a spike of pain to lance through your heart, squeezing at your lungs to stifle the air that your two children would never be able to breathe again; Viserion and Rhaegal were never far from your mind. The golden gleam of the sun hitting the Narrow Sea reminded you of the warmth within Viserion’s aureate gaze, the pristine white of your wedding dress reminiscent of his beautiful scales. Whereas the changing seasons, from the cold winter months to the tentative grasp of spring, brought with it the memory of Rhaegal’s emerald-hued wings stretched across you in a protective embrace, the rumbling of thunder on the horizon, as a summer storm rolled in, bringing back the resounding echoes of his fiery roar to the forefront of your memory.

You knew, deep within your heart, that as long as their memory lived on within you, within Daenerys, and the people that they had graced with their presence, they’d never be truly gone.

Even though you wanted nothing more than for them to be here: to see three shadows flying over King’s Landing, to hear their roars echo along with Drogon’s, to feel the warmth of their bond within your very soul.

Their absence, as your pregnancy delved into the final months, became more apparent with each passing moment. You wished, more than anything, that you could share the kindling of new life with your darling Prūmia and Bāne; knowing that Drogon, your Mīsio, would find comfort from them as well. Instead, he now carried the burden of being an elder brother completely alone.

What was once three, is now only one…

The dragon is supposed to have three heads, but what do you do when two have been ripped away?

If you couldn’t protect Viserion and Rhaegal, mystical beasts from the oldest tales of Westeros, descendants of the mighty creatures of Old Valyria, then how would you ever be able to do so for your twins?

How could you be a proper mother when you’ve already failed so greatly?

“Where have you gone in that beautiful head of yours?” The gentle question pulls you from your torrential thoughts, unfocused eyes snapping to look into a calming violet gaze. At the sight a small smile quirks Daenerys’ lips, but you can detect the worry glimmering just beneath the surface. “There you are.”

You muster up a small smile, knowing that it was lackluster by the way Daenerys' frown seems to grow. "Here I am," you joke. "I was just lost in my thoughts, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you worried."

"I will always worry about you," Daenerys replies. "As long as my enemies walk this world, and something can cause harm to you, then I will continue to be worried. That's what you do for the people you love."

"Really?" Silken skin meets your fingertips as you gently trace a line from high cheekbones, down to a sharp jawline, to full lips, and back again. "I wasn't aware I ranked so highly on your list of priorities, Khaleesi."

Violet eyes narrow at the blatant teasing. "I don't have a list of priorities." You almost laugh at the petulant pout that overtakes your wife's face. "It's true, beloved."

"I don't think that's true, Daenerys." You begin to count on your fingers. "You have the Seven Kingdoms. You have your armies. You have the whole mess with the Stark's. You have--"

Soft lips do a great job at shutting you up, an expert tongue acting in a great supporting role to make you boneless beneath the commanding form of your wife, as nimble fingers curl through the strands of your still sex-mussed hair. "Nothing," she whispers hotly against your mouth, warm breath still mingling with your own. "Will ever be more important than you. The Iron Throne means nothing to me if I don't have you by my side while I rule. My armies mean nothing if I do not have you to defend. This right here?" Daenerys rubs her nose against your own, smoothing a hand down the swell of your belly. "Our family that you've blessed me with, our son that's been ravenously waiting for his little siblings, is all that I could ever want. Nothing will ever be more of a priority to me than my family."

You allow your Khaleesi to hold you close for a moment, at peace within her strong embrace, but soon the need to rile her up once more overtakes you. "All of those things you just mentioned are priorities to you?" Daenerys hums in agreement, having shifted over onto her back to allow you a better position to rest upon her chest, slender fingers now gently carding through your hair to untangle some of the strands. "Wouldn't you call that a list, Khaleesi?"

Daenerys' answering chuckle rumbles through her beneath your ear, her fingers never halting in their soothing motion, as she pulls you impossibly closer to her lithe form. "No, I wouldn't call it a list. A list makes it sound militaristic, cold, unfeeling, and that's the exact opposite of how I feel." She peers down at you through dark lashes, full lips quirked in adoration. "I call it the very reason for my next breath, the reason that my heart will continue beating, and the sole purpose that I'll never lose my fire to continue fighting for a better future."

Silence falls then — both being soothed by the company of the other; you by the steady beat of Dany's heart beneath your ear and Daenerys by the heat of your body curled against her own. You could even feel yourself beginning to fall asleep, something you're hoping will last till morning, before a need fills you once more. This time, instead of being one to tease your dragon, it's one to reaffirm that her adoration, her love, was more than reciprocated.

"You're everything to me, Dany," you sigh, nuzzling into warm skin. "I just want you to know how much you mean to me."

"And you, my dearest flame, are the big house with the red door and the lemon tree." Her arms tighten around you, her last words whispered against the crown of your head as you drift off into sleep. "I'm no longer lost when I look back. You helped me accept my past, embrace my present, and look forward to my future."

It’s only hours later, when your wife is nestled closely to you, a lithe arm wrapped around your abdomen in a protective embrace, that you finally give up on your battle to find sleep. You had hoped, as you had the many nights prior, that Daenerys would tire you out to the point that you could fall into dreamless sleep from sheer exhaustion; something that typically worked.

But no one, not even your dragon, could maintain that level of vigor at night coupled with being Queen of Westeros during the day; although she made a valiant effort, certainly better than anyone else could hope to accomplish.

Refraining from making too much noise, even if it was to just sigh, you slowly edge your way from underneath your dragon's arm — something that's a lot easier in theory, even if you had been doing it more and more recently as sleep continued to elude you — almost panicking when Daenerys tightened her hold, grumbling something against the nape of your neck, before she slackened once more.

Slipping from the bed, after ensuring that Daenerys had truly fallen back asleep, you carefully maneuver around the room, slipping on a discarded tunic that you vaguely recall Daenerys wearing upon entering your shared chambers after dinner — having quickly shed her clothing to take a much-needed bath after the arduous day.

Following your usual route, you find yourself standing on the overhanging balcony that let you see King's Landing in its entirety as well as the harbor twinkling softly in the night. It's on nights like this, when the moon is bright and the stars are twinkling, that you have the most trouble falling asleep. On stormy, or simply overcast, nights you didn't ache deep within your bones, but when the world unveiled itself in its natural state of beauty?

It's like having shards of glass travel down your throat every time you took a breath. Memories of nights underneath a different starry sky, in arid deserts and ancient cities, wherein Viserion and Rhaegal danced across the sky like they were trying to join the very stars themselves — always testing to see who could fly higher.

Looking up now, at the stars shining so brilliantly, you can't help but wonder if they were up there now? If they had finally made it in their pursuit to see who could make it to the top. You wonder if Viserion had saved a special spot for Rhaegal... You wonder if he was currently saving spots for you all...

Tears blur your vision, distorting the sky into a hazy blob of black and silver, and you hope, that wherever they may be now, that they were happy. That they were safe and loved in a way they always deserved to be treated.

Could they see you now?

Could they hear the way your heart cried out for them?

Did they know how much you missed them?

Did they know how much you love them still? How much you will always love them?

Did they know how much darker the world had become since their light was taken away?

"What are you doing out here, ñuha perzys?"

No, your mind cries out. Why tonight, of all nights, did she have to wake up?

"Beloved?"

You hesitated in turning to look at her, knowing that the moment you did you'd be caught, but the longer you waited, the longer you stalled, the more Daenerys would become agitated, her protective instincts flaring into life. There's no way for you to get out of this... Not without the conversation you've been desperately trying to avoid.

So, with a soft sigh, you turn to face the love of your life; being met with the adorably disgruntled form of Daenerys Targaryen: clad in only a rumpled robe that had been thrown across a vanity due to her haste to have you hours before.

"Dany."

Daenerys rarely had to ask you what was plaguing your mind when it became like this — her ability to read you like a book coming in handy — and, for a brief moment, you're glad that you won't have to explain it to her. Explain to her how much of a failure you felt like you were. How your fears of becoming a mother were amplified because you had failed so spectacularly before.

Violet eyes observe you for another moment, darkening with an untold emotion, before something seems to shift inside of her.

"Do you blame me?" The question is uttered softly, on a hesitant breath, that is the complete opposite of your veracious wife. "Do you?"

You shake your head. "Blame you for what, Dany?"

Please don't know, please don't know, please--

"Viserion and Rhaegal."

The mention of their names, coupled with the latent thoughts still swirling within the dark recesses of your mind, causes you to flinch, arms instinctively tightening around yourself in a protective hold. An action that Daenerys must have taken as a positive answer to her question; if the almost injured look that's now openly expressed across her beautiful face is anything to go by.

"We've had this discussion before, Daenerys," you murmur, not wishing to rehash harsh words and reopen still barely healed wounds. "I don't blame you for Viserion. Not anymore."

Daenerys winces at the reminder of what had occurred in Dragonstone all those moons ago. "But you did." It's not a question. There's no need for pleasant lies when in the face of your soulmate. "Who's to say that you don't again? I wouldn't blame you if you did. It was my fault to listen to my advisors instead of my instincts. It was my fault to agree to send Jon Snow beyond the Wall with Jorah. It was my decision to go after them completely alone. It was my own stupidity that led me to turn my back on everything that I learned, everything that I had become in order to get to where I am now." She steps closer to you, unshed tears causing violet eyes to shimmer like untouched amethysts in the argent light of the moon. "It was all because of me that Viserion was struck down in an icy hellscape. Where he was forced to become enslaved to that thing. It was because of me that our son, our youngest child, had his fire drowned by ice."

Your eyes shutter shut at the memories her words invoke. Flashes of icy blue eyes where there should have been gentle gold viciously cycle within your head as you try to forget the brokenly shattered form of your son that you had found after the Battle of Winterfell.

"Not to mention Rhaegal," Daenerys continues, angry spite, all of it directed at herself, hardening her tone. "If I had paid more attention, if I had kept him closer to me, if I had been more cognizant that Euron would have been lurking in the waters below, then he would still be with us. You wouldn't have had to watch as he fell from the sky, you wouldn't have been bathed red by specks of his blood, you wouldn't have had to use milk of the poppy or dreamwine in order to fall asleep because you had such bad nightmares. You wouldn't have suffered if it wasn't for me. Our children would still be alive if it wasn't for me."

Even if some of what she said held merit — others being beliefs you had held onto just to inflict pain onto her; not unlike the pain you had felt when dealing with the unending grief — you refused to let her drown within her pain, refuse to let Daenerys' light get snuffed out. Not when she had been your steady rock for so long, your guiding light to bring you home, the only reason you had been able to pull yourself from the dark abyss their deaths had caused.

"No," you rebuke, tone firm. "I don't blame you, Daenerys. The Night King killed Viserion. The Night King is the reason our beautiful boy was trapped in an unending purgatory instead of the peaceful death he deserved. Rhaegal—" Pausing, lips pressed into a thin line, you take a shuddering breath before pressing on. "We didn't see Euron's fleet either. We were all aware of the potential risks he posed, but none of us took the proper precautions. Rhaegal, what happened to him, and what occurred afterwards, wasn't solely on you, Dany. You were foolish, I won't pretend that you weren't, but you were trying to make too many people happy, trying so hard to be the ruler that they all wanted you to be, instead of being the queen you were always meant to be. You got lost, Dany, and while the price we paid was high, and I don't think the pain will ever fully disappear, I'm just happy you were able to find yourself in some manner in the end." You step closer to your darling dragon, pressing a reverent hand to a flushed cheek. "So, no, Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, I don't blame you for the deaths of our children."

Daenerys simply stares at you for a moment, her gaze almost inscrutable, but you can see the light beginning to return, even as her lips downturn slightly. "Then why do you blame yourself?"

No answer is forthcoming even as a thousand more spring to mind.

How could I not be? I didn't speak up; I saw what was happening and didn't do anything. I wasn't the partner you deserved, Daenerys, not like the one you have been to me and, because of that, because I couldn't find it within myself to just fucking speak up, our sons were killed...

How could I not be responsible when I still remember the sounds of Viserion's distorted roar and Rhaegal's scream of agony?

How could I not be when I'm still haunted by their faces every damn day?

You know that you couldn't say any of those things — Daenerys would probably blow a fuse — but the look within your wife's gaze let you know that she wasn't going to let you off the hook quite yet.

"I don't know," you admit, shoulders slumping as you turn from her inquisitive stare. "I don't know. Are you happy?"

The warm presence of your wife settles before you, standing closer than she had since the entire discussion had begun. "Of course, I'm not happy. You're in pain." Slender fingers gently grasping your face to turn your head to look at her. "It's something I will never enjoy seeing, but I want you understand me when I say this." Daenerys' eyes sharpen, violet pools burning with an inner fire that bespoke of her bloodline. "You need to stop wondering what might have been. It's something I couldn't stop doing, something that I still struggle with on occasion, but it will only make it so that you miss what's happening now. Viserion and Rhaegal are gone, which is something that will never leave us, but to only carry the darkness around with us would be a disservice to the light they had brought into our lives. They're gone, but they'll never be forgotten, because we won't let that happen. So, please, don't blame yourself any longer for something you can't change. Not if you won't let me share that blame alongside you." She steps closer, always drawn like a moth to a flame when you're near. "I promised to protect you from everything when I took you as my wife, to love and hold you through any storm that may come, to weather any battle that'll mean you'll be okay. Even if that means contending with the beasts that lurk within your beautiful mind. I know it's hard, my beloved, but I can't stand not knowing when you're in pain. Not if there's something I can do about. So, please, don't shut me out even if you think you're protecting me by doing so."

You nod, heart twisting at her soulful plea. "I'll try."

Even if you don't know how you'll accomplish it...

"That's all I'll ever ask for."

There's a moment of silence — wherein only the world dares intertwine within the moment you were now sharing with your dragon — before Dany gently smiles at you, love and adoration etching themselves across her face in an open mural of her devotion towards you.

“Come back to bed.” Daenerys reaches out for you, her hands slightly chilled by the night air when your own slots perfectly in place. “You know how I hate the emptiness when you're not there.”

Fighting the urge to smile, you follow your wife back from the balcony into the spacious bedchamber you’ve made into your haven, and you're not surprised in the slightest when Daenerys flops down onto her back, arms wide open in a silent invitation for you to take your rightful place between them.

This time, when you fell into your dragon's embrace, the warmth of your bed surrounding you, though never standing a chance against the heat of your wife, you knew, in that moment, that you'd finally be able to sleep.

Even if it took a while for your mind to finally catch up with what your body needed.

You’re not sure when you had fallen asleep, but suddenly awakening, standing on a sunlit coast that was all too familiar, with the sound of sea birds and crashing waves surrounding you, gave you the impression that you had at some point.

Either that or you were finally going insane.

Turning in place, you take in the sights, the smells, and the sounds of a world that you hadn’t believed you’d ever return to; even if Essos was simply across the Narrow Sea, you don’t think you’d ever be able to see it the same way again. Not after everything that’s happened.

Still, even now, you couldn’t deny that the sight of the Great Pyramid, far off into the distance, didn’t elicit some bone-deep reaction within you. Memories of easier times flickering through your mind — even as the faces of the ones you lost threaten to overwhelm you — allowing for a small smile to stretch across your lips.

A smile that turns into a full blown grin the moment you crane your neck to look at the azure sky and see two familiar shapes circling overhead; Viserion and Rhaegal. Their wings beat rhythmically, creating a soft, soothing sound that echoes across the peaceful landscape as they begin to descend. The sight of them, at the ease in which they danced upon the wind, and around the other, brings a tug of longing to your heart; wishing, more than anything, that this wasn’t a dream. That you’d be able to see it when you awakened.

Landing with a soft thump, a small spray of golden sand showering over your feet, their massive forms tower over you, but you weren’t intimidated for a moment; not when they radiated an aura of warmth and familiarity.

Viserion approaches first, cream colored scales shimmering brilliantly in the sunlight, causing the golden accents to almost appear like flames, and nudges you gently with his snout, a gesture of recognition and affection. Pressing a hand to his cheek, almost crying at the feeling of his sun-soaked pebbled scales, you look into his gleaming golden eyes, a feeling of absolution settling over you as you realize that the icy blue wouldn’t be the last color you witnessed any longer.

Rhaegal, not to be outdone by his younger brother, soon approaches; emerald scales gleam like precious gems as the bronze hues brings with it the thought of your countless hours laying in a field watching him dip and dive in the wind. Tears, that had been gathering from the moment you saw your sons in the air, begin to fall down your cheeks, a sob being stifled in your throat, as you press your hands into both of their cheeks; wanting to be reassured that they were actually there. That they wouldn’t just vanish and leave you bereft once more.

“I miss you both so much,” you whisper, throat still tight from the efforts of keeping your sobs at bay. Their soft croons in response, large heads nuzzling closer to the warmth you provided, nearly being your undoing. “I’m sorry that I failed you. That I wasn’t able to protect you.”

They both let loose short rumbles in response; clearly not agreeing with your evaluation of your past deeds. Rhaegal nudges you with his head, forcing you to take a step back, as he and Viserion seem to have a silent conversation with the other. A sight that brings a small furrow to your brow, but you're not able to say, or do, anything before the world seems to tilt on its axis and everything blurs together. Your stomach lurching at the suddenness of solid ground, and a miasma of colors, as everything seems to settle once more.

Well... almost settled, you think, casting a quick glance to the world around you; noting, with a sinking feeling in your gut, that your sons were nowhere to be found, but that wasn't the only thing that had captured your attention.

Gone were the shrieking of the gulls, the warmth of the sand beneath your feet, the almost sweet scent upon the wind; now you stood at the precipice of a cliff you hadn’t been to since Daenerys had claimed King’s Landing — a place that’d forever haunt you.

Dragonstone…

The air is unusually still, carrying an otherworldly scent of sea salt and dragon fire. The sky above is a swirling canvas of deep purples and oranges, with stars twinkling faintly through the wisps of clouds; an almost dizzying shift from the golden sunlight, crystalline skies, and a warm ocean breeze.

Beneath your feet, waves crash against the rocks with an unparalleled intensity, sending sprays of foam into the air. You didn’t have to look behind you to know that the ancient castle was looming; towers reaching towards the sky as if to grasp what the owners had lost in the years since the dragons vanished.

Twin thumps, and rush of air that ruffles your hair, is all the warning you receive that your sons had arrived.

“Why are we here?”

You didn’t have the heart, or the strength of will, to ask all of the other questions plaguing your mind: Is this my punishment for failing you both? To be forever trapped in the place that I had last seen you? Happy. Whole. Together.

Viserion’s warm head bumps against your side, a small croon bubbling from deep within his throat; it was a sound he always used to make when he wished to go flying, or wanted you to scratch just a bit to the left, or simply because he wished for you attention, for your love.

You laugh wetly, fighting a losing battle in keeping your tears at bay. “I know you dragons are beasts that'll never be fully understood, but I’d like a straight answer at least once.”

None was forthcoming — not from Viserion, whose gentle gaze never wavered from where he had curled his neck around your body, nor from Rhaegal, who had decided to rest on the opposite side, bracketing you within their warmth, keeping you from the cold, harsh wind of the surf — but, in that moment, you realized all you needed to know.

It's a realization that barely registered before Viserion confirms it for you, pressing a warm snout against the clothed area of your abdomen — a place that had once been flat, now round with the promise of new life — and you feel your twins instantly react to his presence. A fact that causes Viserion to snort happily and for Rhaegal to finally raise his head to nuzzle closer; a position that you had been in numerous times before, wedged between your youngest boys while Drogon was off with Daenerys. The bittersweet twang that this moment causes makes you want to never leave, to never get up from the warmth that they had always provided.

Knowing, that when you woke up, you'd be without them once more.

Memories of the last time you had been on this cliff, watching the sun cast a miasma of colors across the Westerosi sky, as Dothraki and Unsullied soldiers worked on the sands far below, assault you in a vicious attack; echoes of Viserion's playful chortling as Rhaegal snarled in response to his brother's continued insistence to steal some of his food. A squabble the two had grown accustomed to having — one you had grown used to overseeing — that never escalated past the first few nips; wherein you'd finally step in and give Viserion the rest of whatever you had on hand.

You remember, with sharp clarity, the way the sun had cast an almost angelic aura within Viserion's kind eyes and the way in which it brought out the darker green hues within Rhaegal's hide.

You remember the serenity you had felt watching Drogon dip and weave across the bay, leaning up against Viserion's warm side with Rhaegal's large head nestled close to your lap.

You remember the sounds of raised voices, that you had previously ignored when they graced your ears through the whistling wind, growing closer; Tyrion's exasperation and Daenerys' calm nonchalance finally keying you into the severity of what was occurring.

You remember your own objections being raised when Daenerys had told you her plan — worry and fear nearly choking you. For her. For your children. For what it could mean for her men if something were to happen. For the future that you weren't ready to live without her in.

You remember the gentle kiss and promise that she had bestowed on you before mounting Drogon: "I will be back soon. You'll be cuddled up with our children and me before you know it."

You remember the warmth of Viserion's cheek as you caressed his pebbled scales, the way your hair blew back when Rhaegal huffed as you leant to kiss his nose, and the amused look within Drogon's crimson gaze when you scratched under his chin.

You remember the heavy feeling in your chest nearly crushing you as you watched all three, along with your Khaleesi, disappear into the horizon.

And, above it all, you remember the look within violet eyes upon Daenerys' return, her pleading words when you looked out into the bay expecting to see three forms but instead saw only two, the distance that had grown between you as you dealt with your grief, the pain that kept you up at night, the regret that hung over you for not speaking up, and that same weight bearing down onto you.

You can't even bear to look out towards the open water now where Rhaegal had fallen, where his emerald scales had been stained forever crimson, and the sounds of his cries still haunted your dreams; your darling boy, your Bāne, always so hotheaded, disappearing beneath frothing water... Simply gone before you could even blink.

Both gone before you could...

The sudden realization of why you're here, why Viserion and Rhaegal were nestled so close to you, finally clicked into place and, with that realization, your tears finally cascaded down your cheeks.

"To say goodbye." You look down into their eyes, one set gold and the other bronze, as tears continue to fall from your own. "That's why I'm here. You're letting me say goodbye."

Twin rumbles meet your declaration, large heads pushing closer as they gently nuzzle your growing stomach. A sight that you would do anything to see in real life — knowing, with everything you had, that they would have made the best big brothers. Smoothing a hand down Rhaegal's jaw, and then shifting to Viserion, you lean closer and allow yourself to be fully wrapped in their embrace.

"I wish that I could go back and hold you both a bit longer. Give you a bit more of the fish I had stolen from the kitchen. Stayed a little bit longer snuggled into your side as I read. I wish that I could get all those little moments back and hold them tightly, so I'd never lose them, never lose you." Rhaegal nudges your shoulder, causing a watery chuckle to escape from your lips. "But, above anything, I wish that I had been able to show you both how much I loved you as fiercely, and as loyally, as you loved me, because I would have died to protect you. I would have gladly sacrificed myself so you both could live."

Shifting back, you look at your darling boys, never letting your hands stray too far from the warmth of their scales. "I want you to know how much I love you, how much I will always love you, and that you'll never be far from my heart. No matter how much time passes, I will never forget either of you. I will never forget the moments we made together and the love you freely gave me. I will never forget what you both have done for me." You lightly place a kiss on both of their snouts. "Goodbye, my darling boys, for the next time I see you, I won't be leaving your sides ever again."

Viserion and Rhaegal press closer, their wings stretching out further to eclipse the very sky above you; casting the diluted light into a fractured array of bronze and gold coloring. The sight bringing you peace as the beginnings of the world starts to blur at the edge of your vision.

And, even as everything fades into grey around you — the twin gazes, one gold and the other bronze, act as a beacon of light to where you were meant to go.

Rain hammers against tall windows, accompanied by the occasional flash of lightning that illuminates the grand tapestries on the walls within the royal bedchamber; the air heavy with the scent of salt and sea, mingling with the sweet incense burned by the attending septas.

You don’t know what had caused you to feel the sudden urge to travel to Dragonstone, remnants of a hazy memory being your only clue; as you rarely left King’s Landing since the news of the impending heirs became public knowledge. Daenerys hadn’t been happy about the potential trip — the way in which she had grit her teeth almost made you believe she was about to spit fire — but something in your eyes must have given her the impression that you weren’t going to back down.

Her acceptance didn’t mean it was an easy trip — with Daenerys’ constant hovering, Drogon snapping at anyone that got too close, and Grey Worm almost stabbing three maids that had suddenly appeared to help you out of the days outfit, being the lightest of the events that had occurred — but the sight of the ancient castle, with its dark spires reaching out to seemingly conquer the sky itself, brought with it a wave of relief that nearly keeled you over; the pressure within your heart clicking into place, making everything right once more.

Everything had gone smoothly for the first five days of your spontaneous vacation, but things had almost imploded when Daenerys had been told, via a raven, her presence was needed in King’s Landing due to a few of the minor noble families stirring up trouble with the visiting dignitaries from Essos. You knew that your wife didn’t wish to leave you, not so late into your pregnancy, nor did your son, but escalating drama within King’s Landing — one Daenerys wanted you far away from — compelled her to shift from doting wife to Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.

She had left the next morning, with a searing kiss pressed to your lips, arms wrapped tight around your form, and a whispered vow seemingly imprinted into your skin: “I will be back within the next two days, I swear it. Even if that means I have to kill every last person that would dare keep me from you.”

Which means it was only right that you’d go into labor on the end of the second day; a raging storm, the likes that hadn’t been seen since your darling wife had been born, crashing over Dragonstone.

“Daenerys still isn’t here?” You gasp, a strangled groan escaping you at the same time. “Shouldn’t she be here by now?”

Grey Worm stands by your side, his sharp features etched with concern. “No, Your Grace, but I know she’ll arrive soon. Even with this weather I’m certain the raven will have reached her by now. For the moment, until Her Majesty can be here, I implore you to focus on yourself.” His rough hand clutch yours, offering what little warmth and reassurance he can. “I’ll be by your side until then.”

The maester, with his wispy beard and trembling hands, no doubt aware of what would happen to him if something were to go wrong, moves between your legs, his voice steady despite the chaos outside. “Push now, gently,” he instructs, his soft tone a sharp contrast to the tempestuous night.

You follow his guidance, clutching at Grey Worm’s proffered hand, summoning every ounce of strength left within your body.

The ancient stones of Dragonstone seem to tremble in response to each clap of thunder, as if the very castle shared in your agony. Yet, amidst the roaring winds and pain — a single strike of clarity, not unlike the lightning streaking through the sky, hits you; a profound sense of determination racing through your haggard form, burrowing deep within your heart, to bring life into this world, despite the raging storm and the absence of your wife.

Gritting your teeth, an agonized cry tears itself from deep within your chest, as you push once more, only faintly hearing the guiding words of the maester.

And, just as another streak of lightning illuminated the sky, Daenerys stormed into the room, her presence commanding and urgent; violet eyes burning with residual fury at being held up, and silvery-gold hair slightly disheveled, betraying the haste in which she had arrived to Dragonstone.

Where she is, Drogon is sure to quickly follow, you think, warmth spreading through you at the sight of your wife and the knowledge your son was home. And, just as the thought crosses your mind, a familiar shadow casts itself over the room, thundering wing-beats being easily discernible from the crackling lightning. No matter how tired he may have been from his long journey, Drogon would stay outside until you brought the twins into this world; a thought that brings a wave of affection for your eldest crashing through you.

“I’m here,” Daenerys announced, voice strained in apology but her relief was palpable as she made her way to your side; taking the spot that Grey Worm had quickly vacated. Pressing a kiss to the hand clasped in hers, Daenerys brushes a sweat-soaked strand of hair from your overheated forehead. “I’m sorry I’m late. I wanted nothing more than to be back by your side the moment I left it.”

You’re only able to offer her a strained smile in response, another wave of pain shooting through you as the maester continues guiding the process along.

Daenerys, easily taking note of your state, turns wild eyes to the gathered servants. “How is she? How far along are we?” The strained quality of her voice, coupled with the vice grip she has upon your hand, gives you an easy understanding of where your wife’s mind had went; to the night of her own birth in this very castle — a night where Daenerys Targaryen was borne but Rhaella Targaryen ceased to exist. “Has there been any issues?”

“No, Your Majesty.” A midwife helpfully supplies, her presence near the bed signifying that you’d hopefully bringing one of your twins into the world soon. “Everything has gone well. Her Majesty has been doing well. There’s no cause for alarm.”

Daenerys, while still stiff, seemed to accept the response, her attention swiftly falling to you solely. “I’m right here, my beloved. I’m not going anywhere.”

Time seems to stretch into an eternity — you’re barely able to discern Daenerys gentle hold, and soothing words, from the maester that was still acting as a guiding light — and the pain is almost stifling until, with one final push, the first of your twins enters the world.

Exhausted, yet elated at the same time, you watch, through bleary eyes, as a midwife quickly takes the babe into her arms to clean, only giving you the barest glimpse of a tiny form before disappearing into the swarm of moving bodies.

But, however much your body may rebel at the thought, the labor wasn’t over yet; another wave of pain crashing over you, ensured that you understood that fact. With every bit of strength you had left in your body, while sweat beaded your brow, and your wife stayed steadily by your side, you give one final push and feel as your second child comes into the world; the same process quickly taking place as the babe was swept away to be seen to.

Twin cries soon fill the chamber in a harmonious display of new life — cutting through the fog that had fallen over your mind — a sound that brings tears to your eyes and a lightness to your chest, as if a weight had suddenly been lifted that you hadn’t even realized was there.

“Boys! You’ve had two beautiful boys, Your Majesty!” A portly midwife bustles towards you, a delicately small form cradled against her clothed chest. “Perfectly healthy.”

Your son is soon placed on your chest, skin to skin, and he’s soon joined by his brother; both babes swaddled but giving you a perfect view to see their beautiful faces. Looking up at your dragon, you can’t help the tears that stream down your face when you notice her own glistening upon porcelain skin.

“Two handsome princes,” you murmur, gently tracing a line down a chubby cheek. “I can’t believe we’re mothers, Dany.” Your eyes meet the violet gaze of your wife, happiness shared between you like the love that has bonded you for years. “After all this time, I can’t believe that I’m actually here.”

“I never wish to be anywhere else,” Daenerys replies, pressing a chaste kiss to your temple, smoothing a hand down your back. “I would do it all over again, go through all the pain and heart ache, if it meant that I could end up right back here with you, with our children.”

Angling your head, you huff out a light chuckle, taking note that Drogon had taken his leave to, no doubt, rest on the cliff side until he was allowed to meet his siblings in person; something you were excited to do, but your new position also allows you to get a better look at your Khaleesi for the first time; your brow furrowing in concern instantly.

“I thought I was supposed to be the only one covered in blood.” You tug at the crimson stained fabric of her ornate tunic. “What happened? Are you okay?”

“I’m more than fine, dearest one,” Daenerys soothes, calmly smoothing a wild strand of hair back behind your ear. “I simply honored the promise I made to you upon my departure.”

Even if that means I have to kill every last person that would dare keep me from you.

Your eyes flutter shut, arms tightening ever-so-slightly around the twins. “Who did you kill, Dany?” Violet eyes, filled with open amusement, are the first thing you see when you collect yourself. “It wasn’t anyone that’d cause a war, is it?”

“As if any of the nobleman would dare test me,” she scoffs, clearly affronted at the mere insinuation. “I made it abundantly clear how foolish it’d be to keep me from arriving back at your side promptly, something that most of those imbeciles seemed to take as a challenge. A feat that became even more imbecilic when I had received the raven stating that you had gone into labor.”

“How many?”

“I don’t see why that would matter—”

“How many, Daenerys?” You interrupt, the sharpness within your gaze causing your wife to halt mid-sentence. “Don’t you dare lie to me either, I’ll find out sooner or later.”

Daenerys huffs. “A little over two dozen, I’d wager.” Her eyes roll skyward, as if she still couldn’t believe the audacity of the people who had stood between her and her family. “However, as I was saying, I don’t see why that would matter. I did tell them to not get in my way, especially since I was already in a horrid mood having to deal with their foolishness to begin with, not to mention leaving your side, I simply ran out of the patience that had already been in short supply.”

“I don’t even wish to imagine what you would have done if you had missed the birth of our sons.”

Your wife tilts her head. “I would have killed them all, of course. Keeping me from you is a sin upon itself, but keeping me away so you go through something like this alone? Wherein anything could have happened to you?” Daenerys shakes her head at the mere notion. “There wouldn’t be any mercy left in my heart; for there can never be any remnants if someone dares affect you due to their actions.”

Despite yourself, and still wanting to know the finer details about who exactly she had killed, and what sort of mess you could expect upon your return to King’s Landing, you couldn’t help the affection that courses through your veins; Daenerys, for everything that she was, and everything she used to be, had always loved you. More than you think you deserve, in all honesty, but the clear dedication she had for you was never more apparent than in this moment.

So, for her, for everything that she has done, and will continue to do, in the name for her love towards you, you decide to drop the conversation for the moment. This wasn’t a time to get into a petty squabble with your wife; not when your sons slumbered peacefully against your chest.

Daenerys, clearly on the same wave of thought, runs a slender finger across the wisps of silvery-gold hair peeking out from underneath the cloth of the twin closest to her. “What shall we call them, ñuha perzys?”

You pause, ruminating over the variety of choices; Old Valyrian was an obvious choice, something strong to showcase the roots that your sons now held to the ancient world, but what names stuck out the most?

Suddenly, as if hit by a bolt of lightning, you realize the only choice of what they could be.

“I have the perfect names in mind, Dany.” Whispers of a phantom dream wisp through your mind, echoing deep within your heart and soul, your smile turning soft as you gently stroke the soft cheeks of your twins. “If you’ll allow me the honor of bestowing them?”

Daenerys’ beautiful smile in return, violet eyes glassy with unshed tears, is all you needed to see to understand that she was more than willing to grant you whatever you wished.

“I think I’ve always known. It’s just something I haven’t been able to see until now.” You lean against your wife, nestled safely underneath her arm, forever seeking the warmth she so effortlessly provided, as you spoke to the room at large: the surrounding midwives, a wizened maester, various servants, and your most loyal guards, all standing at attention. “I’d like you all to meet Prince Rhaegon and Prince Viseryn of House Targaryen.”

And, if you allowed yourself to believe, to listen close enough, through the crashing of the waves and the rage of the wind, as well as the cheering of the people within the room, you could just make out the twin sounds of answering roars from across the Narrow Sea.

#daenerys targaryen #daenerys targaryen x reader #daenerys x reader #daenerys targaryen imagine #daenerys #game of thrones imagine #got imagine #game of thrones #daenerys imagine #game of thrones imagines #house of the dragon

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shesjustanothergeek · 6 months ago

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The Gods We Can Touch Chapter Two: The Gods' Light

IAemond Targaryen x Strong! Readerl

Masterlist of Series

Summary: The older twin of Prince Jacaerys Velaryon, you were a picture of the maiden, untouched and untainted by man's sins. At least, that was what Alicent Hightower believed when she held you in her arms moments after her old friend's labors. You were her shining light, her dream. Though you were never hers, she believed you were meant to be.

What will become of you as time passes and the Queen's shining light grows within the darkness? Will her eldest son's morbid fascination with the light burn the realm? Or will her second son's obsession with the only daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen change the course of the Seven Kingdoms as we know it?

Author's Note: Writing a child's inner dialogue was interesting. Besides being very plain and blunt, I didn't know how to write it. Writing for a child will be challenging, but I'm more than up for it. Enjoy reading! :)

Chapter Warnings: Aegon is psychotic, animal cruelty, just sibling things, Alicent being dululu.

As you hurried through the echoing halls of the Red Keep, your swift strides outpacing those of your brothers, you clutched a dragon egg close to your chest. You could feel its smooth, warm surface drumming with growing life beneath your fingers, determined not to let it slip from your grasp. The moment’s thrill spurred you on as you raced through the ancient corridors.

Moments ago, as you sat with Jace and Luke, enjoying a midday meal of goat cheese and dried meats, Ser Harwin suddenly appeared in the garden, out of breath from his hurried journey from Maegor’s Holdfast. He excitedly conveyed the news that your mother had just given birth. The announcement filled you with anticipation, eager to visit the Dragonpit and choose an egg from Syrax’s clutch for the new arrival.

You were restricted from visiting your dragon whenever you desired, making each visit to the Pit a momentous occasion. Gaelithox, your loyal mount, was only accessible during carefully organized training sessions under the vigilant supervision of the Keepers and your trusted protector. While you had made remarkable progress with your affectionate dragon, the Keepers could not trust you with it alone.

Jace was still grappling with getting Vermax to heed simple commands. The memory of the Keepers urging your younger brother to stand firm and not yield to fear remained vivid. However, when the volatile olive-scaled juvenile lunged forward, Jace faltered and tumbled onto his back, leaving a lasting impression as Aegon and Aemond teased him for days. Unlike Aegon, whose voice echoed like a cackling witch from the tales your maids told before bed, you stifled laughter. Later that evening, your mother reprimanded you when Jace told the incident during supper, silently mouthing the words ‘tattletale’ to your slightly younger brother.

But none of that mattered now. Mother had a babe, and you desperately wished for a sister. It wasn’t that you disliked your brothers; it was just lonely. Jace and Luke shared their Septon with Aegon and Aemond, and you had Septa Marlow, your mother’s former teacher. It was so incredibly boring to sit there in silence with the old crone droning on and on about the duty of a high-born lady, different types of needlework, dances, manners, other Houses, and the importance of virtue, a word you had yet to understand the meaning of.

You asked your mother on more than one occasion to allow you to learn with Helaena, but she said no, saying something about how she was an odd girl with a fascination for unusual things. You didn’t understand why that was a bad trait. You liked how Helaena played with bugs, recalling the many times you counted the legs of crickets you found underneath rocks in the gardens for her.

When the flowers of King’s Landing had blossomed in the spring, you pleaded with your mother to allow you to spend a day with Helaena in the Godswood. Spring brought out all the little creatures, and your Aunt was always chatty during this time. You fondly remember spending hours capturing beetles, crickets, dragonflies, grasshoppers, and numerous moths and butterflies. You ended up with so many of them that you barely had enough jars to take to your Aunt’s room.

The atmosphere was filled with joy until Aegon arrived. His usual confident stride was noticeably absent, and it was clear that he was not in good spirits. This was unusual, as Aegon was typically the epitome of happiness, and his distress weighed heavily on you. Acting on impulse, you beckoned him over. As he stood before you and his sister, his hands tucked in his pockets, you tried to cheer him up by sharing the day’s events with a hopeful smile. When you suggested showing him a butterfly, he nodded in agreement. You retrieved one carefully, handing it as gently as Helaena had taught you, being mindful not to harm its delicate wings.

You opened your palms slowly to show him. It was bright yellow with black markings, fluttering softly in your grasp. You told him to be careful as you tenderly placed it in Aegon’s hands and told him about the multiflora rose bush you found it from. Turning your head to show him where it was, Aegon crushed the butterfly in his fist, smashing the thinly winged insect as the off-white guts splattered across his palms. You couldn’t understand why he would do such a thing to something you and Helaena took great pride in, never mind that the creature was innocent of whatever hateful reasoning he had behind this.

You recalled how Aegon wiped the remnants of the butterfly across your shocked face in finality and smiled the smile you hoped for, showing the crumpled, wiry black legs and torn shreds of paper-thin wings on his palm.

Helaena screamed. You can still remember the sound of it, piercing your ears and making them feel as if they bled. Aegon rubbed the tiny leftover specs of the carcass onto her head to get her to quiet, bellowing the same cackle he always did. After that, you couldn’t recall much, only a sudden anger you had never felt before, blurry vision, and being pulled off Aegon’s whimpering form. You were still unsure about how you found yourself pummeling your uncle’s face in the same way he did the bug.

The Queen, accompanied by Ser Criston, discovered you trying to embrace Helaena. However, the young girl shied away, retreating into a crouched position, her knees to her chest and her face buried between them. Overwhelmed with emotion, you sought solace in Queen Alicent’s arms, burying your head in her skirts. As she inquired about the events, she tenderly ran her jeweled hands over your messy hair while you struggled to say your feelings, too choked up to speak coherently. She lifted you into her arms in a comforting gesture, providing security and reassurance.

You remembered how her scent lingered in the air—frankincense mixed with something more worldly, a delicate aroma that clung to her soft skin and auburn hair. With a determined expression, she assured you that Aegon would be punished for his actions, a look of resolve you had never seen on her before. She then gently carried you over to her eldest son, who was still visibly upset, wiping at his eyes and tending to his busted lip.

Alicent ordered him to apologize, you still in her arms, your face hidden within her neck as your crying turned to sniffles. Aegon did it begrudgingly, and you could tell he did not mean it, but it was enough to appease the Queen as she carried you to her chambers, commanding a maid to bring a fresh bowl of warm water and lemon tarts, though you much-preferred orange, with some floral smelling tea.

With the tenderness reminiscent of your mother, she gently wiped away the tears and butterfly guts from your face, reassuring you that you were a radiant embodiment of the Seven’s divine light, as lovely as the Maiden herself, and expressed her pride in having someone with a sense of justice akin to the Father’s at her side.

You never understood why your mother didn’t want you to be around the Queen. She was lovely and kind and always had the tastiest snacks at her disposal. You remembered wishing one night after she had yelled at you for running away from your Septa that Queen Alicent was your mother. She would never hurt your feelings as your birth mother had.

“I want to show Mother the egg!” Luke whined at you as you reached her bed chamber doors.

“No, I’m going to,” you tell Luke, keeping the egg closer.

“But why?” he asked, sounding on the verge of tears, petulantly stomping his tiny foot.

“Because I’m the eldest,” you quipped as you kept the egg out of his grasp.

“Luke was the one who chose it! You just picked it up,” Jace countered, sounding way too smart for his good.

You started to voice your objections once more, but just then, Ser Harwin turned the corner and caught up with the group of you. Anticipating that Luke would inform Harwin about your refusal to give him the egg, you let out an exaggerated groan, rolled your eyes, and reluctantly handed it to your younger brother.

“Little Princes and Princess, you know better than to run away from me. I should tell your mother about this.” For a moment, you were worried that Ser Harwin might be serious, but then you saw his smile crinkling the corners of his eyes.

“We won’t do it again, Ser Harwin,” Jace answered. You knew he was lying; your mother’s sworn protector seemed to think that, too.

“We will be calm when we enter, yes?” Ser Harwin commanded rather than asked.

You all nod, not saying a peep as he opens the door to your Mother’s chambers, though the sound of three pairs of little feet running across the stone floor defeats Harwin Strong’s fleeting hope.

“Look what we brought, mother!” Jacaerys exclaimed, showing her the near-black-scaled egg in his grasp. “We chose the egg for the babe!”

The Princess sat in a cushioned chair, her arms cradling a small bundle wrapped in intricately sewn brown and gold fabric. From within the bundle, tiny grunts were heard, adding to the air of anticipation and curiosity in the room.

“That looks like the perfect one,” she kindly replied, grunting as she shifted in her seat.

Your mother smiled at the three of you, leaning forward in her cushioned armchair to show her newest addition to her pride and joy. Pulling the fabric that obscured your sibling’s face away, you stared, a coo of awe filling the air as your brothers placed the dragon egg into the warming pot. He didn’t look much of anything right now, save for the same brown eyes the three of you shared. Your brother’s skin flushed peachy as he opened his toothless mouth to yawn.

“I let Luke choose,” you added, tugging the fabric as you poked his plump cheek. It was soft and warm under your finger, smoother than anything you had ever felt.

Your mother placed a hand on the crown of your brown hair, a stark contrast to the white of hers and your father’s as she caressed the silky strands. “Thank you, my darling. That was very kind.”

“It is not every day an egg leaves the Dragonpit, Princess,” Ser Harwin spoke, a pride you didn’t have to look to see heard within his voice. “I thought it best to escort the lads and lady.”

“Laenor and I thank you, Commander,” she nodded gratefully, the tips of her teeth showing between her pink lips.

The adults continued to converse, but you and your siblings were too concerned with the new addition to pay any attention. Jace and Luke soon found their way to your side, Ser Harwin standing behind your mother with a gentle smile as they peered into the fabric.

“Why doesn’t he have any teeth?” Luke questioned, his dark brows drawn together in confusion. Your mother chuckled and glanced at her sworn protector above as you answered.

“He was born a few hours ago, Luke. Of course he doesn’t have teeth,” you jeered, staring incredulously at him.

“Now, be nice, dear heart,” Rhaenyra scolded. “He has never seen a babe before. You asked the same questions when he was born.”

You scowled with sealed lips, returning your vision to the bundle in her arms. He was cute, but when your mother told you his name and that you were waiting for your father to come, you sighed, plopping onto a plush settee.

“Joffrey?” Jace asked, ignoring a begging Luke pleading to hold his brother.

“Joffrey,” she answered gracefully. “A name your father and I chose together like all of you.” She stroked the lanugo hair on your brother’s head, bringing her lips to his crown.

You stared at your mother with scrunched brows, confused about why they picked such a non-Targaryen and Velaryon name. She indeed named her children in Laenor’s absence, but you knew she did not name you.

“Queen Alicent named me mother. Not you. She said you weren’t expecting a girl, so you had her decide.” Rhaenyra’s violet eyes flicked to you, a look you could only understand as restrained annoyance on her chiseled face. You did not mean to upset her, your head lowering in embarrassment. You were only telling the truth.

“And what an honor it is to be named by the Queen Consort,” she expressed, a slight smile on her rosy lips. Her strained voice betrayed any tenderness she attempted to show, furthering your shame in displeasing her for only saying what you believed was fact.

The embarrassment did not last long. Your father barreled through the door with the sound of boisterous laughter. You shot out of your seat, your brothers hollering in greeting as your father swooped you into his strong arms without warning. You squealed. You kicked your feet with joy as Laenor Velaryon held you within his warm embrace, a smile gracing his features as he swung your wiggling form back and forth.

Rhaenyra smiled gracefully, still holding your younger brother in her tired arms. She observed the three of you clinging to your father as his companion stood a respectable distance away. Her heart felt complete at the sight, and her exhausted gaze traveled to Ser Harwin, a soft grin squinting her eyes.

“Father, what stories of your travels do you have?” Jace asked, eager, a grin pulling his cherubic cheeks as you flung over Laenor’s shoulder with a giggle.

You waved to Ser Qarl, his chiseled face offering a teasing look as you giggled. Luke’s mop of brown curls barely reached your father’s waist as he hugged him, peering up. His dark eyes were wide with excitement as you waited for the exciting tales he would undoubtedly have for you three.

Before your father could answer, your mother spoke, her maternal presence reasoning like a cloud covering the scorching sun, her voice firm but gentle. She commanded you to leave with the squire and your father. Each of you attempted to argue with her, groaning that you hadn’t seen him for a moon and wanted to hear what he had to say.

“Mother, it’s been forever since we last saw Father!” Jace complained, his tone so whiney and spoiled that it had Ser Harwin chuckling.

“You will give me no lip, you three,” she commanded sternly, her face glistening with sweat. “You shall hear all your father has to say and more once you finish your lessons in the Pit.”

Rhaenyra nodded to her husband as she placed your new brother into Ser Harwin’s arms, observing for a long moment as her lithe fingers stroked the silky skin of the babe’s temple. With a grunt, Laenor placed you back onto the ground, bestowing each of you a kiss on your dark crowns before the squire and Laenor led the trio of you out.

The air was always thick within the Dragonpit, blankets of smoke from torches and incense permeating the cavernous expanse of the halls as it struggled to cover the scent of dragon. When you entered, it nearly choked your lungs, constantly rubbing at your watery eyes as the Dragonkeepers brought forth your little dragon from the deep with rattling chains.

Your uncles, Aemond and Aegon, stood beside you and your brothers in green garments. The younger’s freckled face was sullen as he watched your juvenile dragon flap its viridian wings, kicking its chained legs impatiently. Aegon appeared bored, sputtering his lips and rolling his violet eyes with annoyance.

You ignored the eldest prince, giggling at your mount’s antics, and took a step forward, reaching an unguarded palm out before a Keeper abruptly smacked it away. Gaelithox released a loud hiss at the Elder’s action, strings of saliva splattering on the stone floor as his blood-red eyes bulged out of their sockets, jerking his chains. Scowling, you crossed your arms, waiting for their instructions as you quelled the ire that began to rise at their scolding.

Aegon released a chuckle from behind, swaying on his feet as you turned, fixing him and Aemond, who mirrored his expressions with a fiery glare. You had always felt that your uncles disliked you, and even though they were of a similar age, you did not feel comfortable in their company, a constant bubbly sensation that felt like a beast was attempting to claw out of your stomach whenever Aegon or Aemond was near. Yet a part of you still craved their attention, their acceptance, feeling that if you did whatever one of them wanted, finally, they would like you.

It never worked, at least not truly.

Eventually, you found that if you could not receive the validation from both, one would do.

When Aemond and Aegon followed you to the gardens one summer afternoon, both intent on harping about your “insulting appearance to the eyes,” you snapped. It was the first time you heard the word bastard hurled towards you. You were five years of age and had yet to understand.

Your mother always told you to treat your uncles kindly even when they did not do the same. The goodness in you did not want to hurt them, whether it be physically or their feelings, but with no brothers to defend you and no guards around to escort you away, you were left with no choice after Aemond yanked a piece of your dark hair so hard it came out of your scalp.

“I am more of a Targaryen than you, Aemond! I have a dragon!”

You turned to Aegon next, ready to scream that even though he was born a male, your mother remained the Iron Throne’s heir, but the words stayed inside you. The king’s eldest son stopped you with a boisterous laugh, placing a gangly arm on your shoulder as he praised you for your immature insults.

Something shifted in the dynamic between the five of you that day. No longer were you and your brothers the dirt underneath your uncle’s shoes. Now, the four of you were comrades. The relationship was still tense, but you had found the secret to redirecting your torment.

“Princess,” the Dragonkeeper translated the other, “you have excelled in your bonding with Gaelithox, but he is still young and unpredictable.” You looked into the man’s eyes, anxious to hear what the next task for you to master would be.

Yes, Gaeli was still a juvenile, not yet grown into his leafy-colored body, the red scales lining his sides and wings placed with a lighter yellow-green, but he was bound to you. That was the most crucial part. There could be no command of an animal if it did not trust you and you, them. It took everything within not to roll your eyes.

“Ivestrag�� zirȳla jikagon,” (Let him go) the Elder Keeper nodded, having the others release the chains of your dragon.

Gaeli stalked forward, his clawed legs slapping on the stone floor as he hissed, his arrowhead swaying and observing the people before him. You could hear the panicked whispers of the men, demanding you tell your dragon to stop as he continued his swift march forward. You understood that his intent was the Elder who chastised you and had half a mind to allow Gaeli to scare him, his crimson orbs set on the man who did not falter.

Jace grabbed the hem of your matching navy skirt in anxiety and attempted to pull you back, fearing what the dragon might do, but you held steadfast, a self-assured smirk gracing your features.

“Kelīs!” (Halt) you commanded confidently with your chest, beaming once your dragon ceased its pursuit with the tilt of its triangle-shaped head.

Aegon appeared bored with the ordeal, exaggerating a yawn as he flipped his frizzy blonde hair from his face. You could not ignore the pang of hurt at his disinterest, seeking more validation and praise from him that you would not get unless at someone’s expense. Aemond had hidden his face from your view behind his older brother, his sun-spotted cheeks dusted pink as you peered around to make eye contact, only for him to sneer and turn away.

Twat.

“Pay close attention, Uncle Aemond. Mayhaps one day you will be in this position, but I do believe it won’t be for a very long, long time,” you snickered, the sensation of less than leaving as you noticed Aegon’s smirk. Facing the Keeper and his translator, you could never remember the name of once more, you spoke. “When will I be able to fly Gaeli? I am able to control him well enough.”

The older man grimaced, wiping the sweat across his ebony brow as he gave an unconvincing expression. “Gaelithox is not yet riding age, and there is still much for you to learn, your highness, before you are ready to make such feats,” the translator expressed.

A pout formed on your plush lips, looking to Gaeli and back to the half a dozen Keepers and Wards. It was as if your dragon could sense your annoyance, releasing a deep hiss within the back of his throat and unhinging his jaw as he lunged at the Elder, swiftly jerked by the chains at his ankles. You could not hide your amusement at the adolescent and earned a scolding in High Valyrian that you could not comprehend nor care about.

“Gaelithox kostagon botta aōha botagon. Pōnta issi vēdros. Istia gūrēñagon naejot control zirȳ gō kostā kipagon.” (Gaelithox can sense your emotions. They are volatile, but you must learn to control them before you can ride.)

A grin spread across your plump cheeks, a mischievous thought coming to mind as you turned to look at Aegon, who was still quite bored. The hurt did not lessen, and quickly, you glanced at the Keepers out of the corner of your eye as you took a few paces back, ensuring your brothers were behind you as you inhaled and spoke the few words you knew of High Valyrian off your pink tongue.

“Sōvēs!” (fly)

Gaelithox didn’t hesitate for a moment. With a mighty leap, he soared into the air, his shimmering emerald wings creating a whirlwind of dirt and debris that engulfed the Keepers. His joyful songs filled the air as he gracefully flew above you, the chains on his legs and torso barely out of the reach of the Dragonwards. You watched in wonder as your dragonling glided effortlessly across the ceiling of the Pit, moving above each of you with the grace and agility of a bird. The men in their gray and crimson garb scattered around the cave’s entrance like ants whose hill had been disturbed, desperately trying to seize Gaeli’s chains.

As you turned to look behind, you bloomed, a smile so bright on your countenance that you felt it would burn all who witnessed it. Jace and Luke stared at you proudly, the youngest trying to run to you but was held back by a Kingsguard. Luke still had much to learn with Arrax. For one, your little brother was deathly afraid of him despite his denial, an emotion the dragon could sense during the training sessions.

A surge of relief washed over you as you looked at Aegon, whose laughter filled the air in response to your impish choices. He warmly placed his pale, sinewy hand on your shoulder in approval while his younger brother Aemond remained concealed behind him. Despite the Dragonkeepers’ urgent calls for Gaelithox to land, you couldn’t help but savor the feeling of self-satisfaction that his gesture brought.

“Ao dovodedha riña! Aōha giēñilaros hen bisa ozletti kessa sagon se morghon hen sȳz vali! Aōha muña kessa rȳbagon hen bisa,” (You ignorant girl! Your misuse of this bond will be the death of good men! Your mother will hear of this) the Elder shouted, grabbing your shoulders as if his ire could force sense into you.

Once you decided that you had tortured the handlers enough, you told Gaeli to land, which he did so with low, begrudging noises, the vibration of his weight rattling your bones. The rest of the training session went uneventful as you commanded your mount to stay, lay down, and heel, the usual tricks that you and Gaeli had long grown bored of after the first successful attempts.

When your dragon was tired, nipping at the Keepers who tried to redirect him back to the task, they called an end, bringing forth a white and brown goat as a reward for Gaeli’s patience, a bell jingling around its neck. His scaly, clawed feet tapped against the floor with an excited rhythm, evoking the image of a pup eagerly anticipating its meal. He suddenly lunged towards it but halted abruptly in response to your brief noise.

“Lykirī. Where are your manners, Gaeli?” (Be calm), you teased, earning a quick reprimand from the Head Dragonkeeper for your childishness.

“You must treat these beasts with caution and respect, Princess, lest you get burned. They are wild, barely tamed creatures. They allow you this bond,” the translator conveyed, his accent thick and worry etched in his tone.

You groaned, interrupted by an impatient screech from your dragon as a line of drool dropped from in between his finger-length fangs. After a quick apology, you allowed Gaelithox to feast, commanding with a decisive “dracarys.” The red eyes of your dragon shone like rubies in his orange flames. His obsidian pupils slit as he burned the goat to a charred crisp, tearing at its flesh into chunks.

After begrudging praise from the Keepers as they led Gaeli back into his nest, it was now Jace’s turn to repeat the same routine, although much less eventful. He was anxious to train Vermax, barely containing his excitement as his dragon whistled. His mount approached him with purpose, olive and scarlet toned body thumping with each step as the younger Keeper translated the Elder’s words.

“Call Vermax to heel Prince Jacaerys.”

Jace looked to the dark-skinned man who scolded you for your arrogance earlier, scars across his skin and listened.

“Dohaerās.” (Serve) And Vermax obeyed, stopping a few paces before your barely younger brother, horned head tilting in interest.

The Elder looked down at your brother, a proud smile on his bearded mouth, and nodded in approval. You should have felt the same that Jace was advancing in his sessions and closely catching up to you, but all you felt was the burning sensation of envy in your stomach, which you buried with an encouraging expression to your brother. You did not understand why you felt such a thing as he was urged back to his dragon, who had taken notice of a snow-white sheep belting in the distance.

He was your brother, your twin, as close to the same as one could be. It would be best if you were ecstatic that Jace was blossoming into a fine dragon knight. Still, you did not, and guilt and jealousy overwhelmed you as he waited for the instructions, an overeager Vermax ready to devour the unaware sheep.

Just as quickly as the feeling came, it went as you watched how Vermax disobeyed Jace’s commands to halt his pursuit of the animal. The only thing holding the young dragon back was the Warders’ staff.

“You must hold mastery over your dragon, my young prince,” the translator spoke, “as Prince Aegon has with Sunfyre.” High Valyrian rolled off the Elder’s tongue with deep rumbles as he talked to an embarrassed Jace. “Once they are fully bound to you, they will refuse to take instruction from any other, much like your older sister.”

Vermax released an ear-piercing screech of frustration as his yellow eyes bore into the roped sheep, belting in primal terror as it attempted to escape a fate over which it had no control. Jace nodded to the older man, shame replaced with excitement coursing through his veins as he hopped from foot to foot.

“Can I say it?” he asked anxiously, brown eyes wide with a youthful glow that reflected your own with your dragonling. The Elder nodded in affirmation as Jace glanced back to you and where you stood in front of Aegon, the man swiftly pushing your brother forward in admonishment for his brief action of immature reassurance.

Your brother turned with a broad smile you feared would split his face in two as you heard the shuffle of shoes behind you. Aemond found himself peering over your shorter form as he studied the dragon, slinking closer and closer to its prey, screeches of a predator ready to pounce echoing off the caverns. You looked at your younger uncle with confusion. Your eyebrows scrunched together as he paid you no mind. Unsure of why you did so, you took a step to the side, allowing him more room to observe as your brother shouted gleefully.

“Dracarys, Vermax!”

Perhaps a subconscious part of you felt bad for your dragonless uncle, hoping to give him at least a taste of what power one felt when in command of a beast such as this. Besides, it was the right thing to do. You knew he would not notice such kindness from you and did not expect anything in return, nor did you want it, as Vermax’s orange flames charred the flesh of the snow-white sheep.

You approached Jace once the lesson ended, giving him an encouraging hug from behind. You knew this was a remarkable feat for him. Jace and you were the same, a sentiment shared by both and your family on countless occasions. Spending every waking moment with someone, sharing the same bed, meals, toys, and friends, it was no surprise that you confided in one another and shared affections that traditional siblings did not have. You tended to mother your brother, a flaw that your natural mother had scolded you on, but that did not stop you as you kissed Jace on his warm, smooth cheek, whispering what he could do better with his dragon the next time.

You only wanted the best for your brother, and you desperately wanted to share your triumphs with the person you spent all your days with, even if it was selfish.

Chattering behind you caught your attention, seeing Aegon approach his younger brother as he flippantly stroked a piece of unruly frizz from his face.

“Aemond, we have a surprise for you,” he confided, placing an encouraging hand at his brother’s mid-back.

The youngest prince of King Viserys looked skeptically at his kin, gaze downcast. “What is it?” he asked warily, shoulders hunched. Luke gave a cheeky grin and kicked the dirt with his toes.

“Something very special,” your brother answered as you watched him scamper off into the darkness of the Pit.

You and Jace gazed at your uncles, confused, a twinge of hurt poking at your chest at having been left out of the “surprise” as you grabbed his hand for support. Subconsciously, you rubbed your thumb over his knuckles, feeling uneasy in your heart as Jace looked eagerly to where his brother went.

“You’re the only one of us without a dragon,” Aegon began, escorting Aemond to his intended destination, waiting for his response.

“Indeed,” the young prince answered curtly. Aemond still lowered his head, silver hair tied back as he followed his older sibling blindly.

You could tell Aegon was holding a barely restrained smile, gesturing with his pale hands and continuing. “And we felt badly about it, so we found one for you.”

You cocked your head as you followed at a distance. A part of you was anxious to see what Aegon planned, knowing from his history in the back of your mind that it would not be as kind as he was making it out to be. Nonetheless, you intently listened as Aemond protested with suspicion.

“A dragon? How?”

Your uncle smirked, stopping just before the ramp of the Dragonpit sloped down to where the Keepers held the animals. You heard the squeals of a creature you could not recognize due to the echoes bouncing off the stone walls. It sent an ominous, almost eerie feeling through your bones.

“The Gods provide,” Aegon answered alisively.

Moments later, your younger brother led a plump, pink pig with wooden wings strapped to its hairy pot belly up to the four of you.

“Behold! The Pink Dread,” Luke and Aegon announced simultaneously, cheering as if this was the most fantastic find in the history of Westeros.

“Be sure to mount her carefully. The first flight is always rough.”

This was hideous. This was horrendous. This was a terrible, awful, no-good deed that would surely wind up with all of you receiving a reprimand from your parents. But why... why was it so funny?

You released a noise akin to a gag, a failed attempt to stifle a laugh as your brothers and elder uncle snorted in unison. Unable to control your giggles, you covered your mouth, releasing Jace’s hand as you ran over to Aemond, nudging his side.

“Don’t be so rude, Uncle! She is a very fine creature, worthy of having such a noble rider,” you teased, but he gave no reaction, only staring at the winged pig with a sullen, dejected expression on his freckled countenance.

It only made you feel slightly wrong… slightly.

When Aegon decided the fun had outstayed its welcome, he walked away, laughter fading as the three of you followed his coattails like ducklings to their mother out of the Dragonpit, leaving a dejected Aemond to stare at his new gift.

You spared a glance back to your uncle as the yellow sun peeked into the expanse of the Pit. Guilt crawled up your back like dark clouds before a storm, hesitating your exit as he became aware of your gaze. Aemond still stood where the four of you left him, radiating an aura of hurt, apathy, and anger. Flames lit your cheeks in shame as you stepped back towards your younger uncle, only to be swiftly stopped by the other, Aegon’s larger hand placing itself on your crown as he forced you to follow his march out of the Dragonpit.

There was no reason for this guilt. Aemond would undoubtedly hurt you or your feelings regardless of the jokes your siblings and Aegon played on him. It was only a matter of time until the word bastard spewed from his chapped lips.

The sun felt warm on your skin as you were helped into the carriage, awaiting the return of the five of you home, though you missed one. Judging by the bright orb's position, it would soon be time for your daily lessons with Septa Marlow. The woman was so old that she often fell asleep during your embroidery lessons, an easy chance for you to escape the crone’s torture that she called learning.

The ride to the Red Keep was quick, and the amount of time it took your Septa to fall asleep was even faster, much to your delight. You found yourself wandering the halls, staring at the paintings depicting great battles with dragons and portraits of your ancestors, unsure what would peak your fancy and seeking anything to entertain you. Your brothers were in their lessons that were undoubtedly more enticing than yours, and your father would most likely be with your mother, seeing as there was a new addition to the family.

“What are you doing wandering about the halls, Princess?” the velvet voice of Queen Alicent rang out.

Finally, your musings were answered.

You demurely smiled at the Queen, giving her a short curtsy in your Velaryon blue gown, tiny silver seahorses embroidered into the bodice. “Septa Marlow fell asleep again, and she looked so peaceful I didn’t want to wake her,” you answered with a childish coyness that never failed to endear Alicent. You were her shining light, after all.

The Queen chuckled, a noise you heard few and far between as she offered you a delicate palm, accepting it without hesitation. Your mother never approved of you spending time unchaperoned with her for reasons you could never comprehend. She was family, your grandmother, to be precise, and she was the one who gave you a name. It should be more than natural to accompany her on outings and luncheons.

“You should not be alone, Princess. ’Tis unsafe for a girl of your age to be unaccompanied in the Keep. I am going to Helaena’s room to pay her a visit. Come,” Alicent stated without so much as a sliver of space for protests.

“Why is it unsafe, your majesty?” you questioned with a raised brow, curious who or what would try to hurt you. “It’s my home and I’m a princess. No one would try to hurt me.”

The Queen stopped her movements, glancing down at your much shorter form as a sigh escaped her mouth. “You are still a child, my light, and many people would love to snatch it away and keep it for themselves. Those even close to you could wish you harm.”

Your head whipped up towards Alicent faster than humanly possible, a horrified look on your visage. People close to you? What could she mean? Could it be your maids? The servants who changed your sheets, washed your clothes, or made your food? Could your mother wish to hurt you? Your brother? Your hair prickled at the thought, causing your skin to itch and become uncomfortable. You could not say anything in response.

You followed the Queen to your Aunt’s quarters without strife, a sinking feeling in your gut as her ringed hand enveloped yours in a blanket of maternal security. Alicent would never hurt you… would she?

The same scent of frankincense wafted into your nose as the Queen led you. It sent pleasant shivers down your spine, making you forget the discontent as you passed lords and ladies of the court, a warm sense of joy tickling your stomach. You looked at Queen Alicent, the natural light filtering through the windows, to see specks of dust dancing in the air behind her auburn hair.

Admiration washed over you as you studied her, a crown of weaved golden threads resting atop her curled updo. She wore earrings of silver metal intricately smelted together, an emerald gem placed in the center with droplets of pearl glinting in the sun. Her gown was green, a usual statement color of her House, and she had a modest cloak covering her shoulders and cut sleeves. She was so beautiful, more beautiful than anyone you had ever seen besides your mother, and it filled you with a sense of deep admiration that nearly overwhelmed you.

Cackles echoed in the distance of the red rock walls of the Keep, a group of ladies adorned in extravagant garbs striding in the opposite direction of the pair of you. Their piercing laughter abruptly ended as they spotted you hand in hand with the Queen, appearing as if they saw a ghost. They stood there, still, unmoving, their eyes following you, despite the impropriety of gawking at the Queen Consort of the Seven Kingdoms and a daughter of the heir, whispering words of gossip.

Your adoration of Alicent was forgotten about as a sinking feeling of inadequacy hollowed your chest, somehow knowing they were speaking of you. The Queen felt hesitation in your steps as you passed by the women, uncertainty causing you to squeeze her golden-ringed fingers tighter.

“Pay no mind to them, my light,” Alicent encouraged, rubbing a comforting thumb over your knuckles as you did with Jace. You tried to listen to her words and disregard the judgmental stares of the ladies, but you could not and heard one whispering.

“Seven! She looks more like the Queen than her mother!”

The laughter soon carried on as a lump formed in your throat. Your arms felt prickly again, as if the hair got stuck between the threads of your clothes, pulling and tugging uncomfortably as you attempted to scratch the sensation. Queen Alicent glanced down at the sudden clawing at your limbs. Her plush lips pouted in a curious expression, recognition flashing in her amber eyes as she smoothed the stray hairs of your braid, kissing the top of your head in comfort.

Soon, you entered Helaena’s chambers, her Septa dressed in humble charcoal gray clothing, sitting next to your Aunt as she hunched over an ancient tome. The modestly dressed woman stood and bowed at the arrival of the Queen, exiting without words as you sat on a Myrish rug. A glass case filled with different types of insects rested on the delicate fabric, taking note of a giant dead obsidian scorpion in it. You could not hide the shudder the creature brought as your Aunt found her place next to you, bringing out another small casing.

“What is in that one, Helaena?” you asked, peering curiously over her shoulder. She recoiled at your sudden presence, slightly shifting away from you as a pang of hurt hit your core at the action. She disregarded your question and focused on her hidden creature, but you paid no attention to it, happy to be by her side.

Alicent sat on the opposite side of her daughter, crossing one leg and bending the other to get into a comfortable position. Though the rug was lavish, it did not provide much cushioning for larger bodies. As your Aunt opened the wooden box, a creature you had never seen crawled along the side, with what seemed to be a thousand tiny legs hidden underneath a shiny black body. You tried to hide your shock as Helaena picked it up, allowing it to crawl along her pale, dainty fingers. Another shudder of disgust came over you as you watched the bug’s legs move too quickly to be something of this world, nausea bubbling in your stomach.

“This one has sixty rings. Two pairs of legs on each. That’s two-hundred and forty,” Helaena stated, her violet gaze trained on the creature. She seemed as if in another world as she spoke, talking to those around her but not registering your presence.

You intently observed as she allowed the bug to crawl up her satin dress sleeve before placing it back into her palm to study it more. You never understood Helaena’s fascination with the things, but you didn’t deter her from it, even when she brought out creatures such as this. It was never something you were interested in yourself, as you would much prefer to spend time plucking flowers like other girls your age. However, you respected them nonetheless.

“Yes, it is,” the Queen agreed, her facial expressions showing exasperation despite her encouraging words. You moved closer to Helaena with a morbid fascination to see the thing, though you still felt repulsed.

Your Aunt was silent for a beat, entranced with the new addition to her collection, seeming as if she forgot your and Alicent’s existence. Her voice was the only thing that indicated recognition. “Would you like to hold it?” she asked airily.

Unsure if she was speaking to you, you did not respond. Only when Helaena turned her pale face to you did you respond with a swift shake of your head. Your Aunt took no offense to the refusal, continuing to examine it. “It has eyes, though I did not believe it can see.”

Alicent released a noiseless sigh. She seemed tired of her child’s interests since they were not ordinary, making you feel bad for Helaena. Though people believed she did not perceive the world for what it was, she wasn’t blind. Your Aunt felt and understood emotions like the rest of you, but she did not act like everyone else. It did not mean she was not human.

“And why is that so, do you think?” the Queen asked, her velvet voice bland with feigned interest.

“It is beyond our understanding,” Helaena plainly answered, allowing the quiet to resonate as your eyes flicked between them.

“I suppose you’re right,” Alicent replied, placing what was intended to be a comforting hand onto Helaena’s elbow. Your Aunt flinched, trying to free herself from her mother’s touch but knowing she could not force a guardian to listen to their child. “Some things are just beyond our understanding,” she finished, begrudgingly letting go.

You observed the exchange with critical eyes. Your brow scrunched in the offense for Helaena and confusion. The Queen knew her daughter did not like touch unless she was the one to initiate it, but she still insisted on invading her space with the ignorant hope that Helaena would one day accept her affections. You supposed that was why the Queen liked spending time with you, as you were a more typical child, embracing any affection.

Suddenly, the door to Helaena’s chambers opened with a clanking of metal and squeal of hinges as a Kingsguard gripping harshly onto Aemond’s arm entered. The three of you turned to face the noise, confusion mixed with surprise matching each of your faces.

“Your grace,” the Kingsguard announced as Aemond struggled in his grasp. Questions etched your brows as she stood and went to her son. You understood he had done something wrong by the shame covering his face like the ash dusting it.

“Aemond!” she exclaimed. “What have you done?” She took her son by his shoulders, palpating his soot-covered visage to ensure there were no wounds.

“He did it again,” Helaena answered for the guard as you glanced at her for an explanation.

Aemond being covered in ash and escorted by a guard seemed a common occurrence for the three of them, and it needed no explanation. Aemond smelled of smoke and incense, a scent you recognized from that of the Dragonpit. Had he still been in there this whole time?

“After how many times you’ve been warned? Must I have you confined to your chambers?” Alicent interrogated, exasperation evident in her tone. She stared at him with words ready to scold before her son interrupted with a protest.

“They made me do it!”

They? Was he referring to you, Aegon, and your brothers? You didn’t coerce Aemond into the depths of the Dragonpit, where he likely encountered a dragon that wasn’t his own. How could he hold you responsible for his own choices?

“As if you needed encouragement! Your obsession with those beasts goes beyond understanding,” she admonished with a shake of her head.

Aemond’s eyes widened with tears as he tried to comprehend his mother’s lack of understanding. He felt a profound sense of hopelessness and powerlessness in the situation, believing that he had no alternative but to respond in the manner he did, his blonde hair in disarray. It was evident that you hadn’t realized the extent of the pain you caused him. What you perceived as a simple jest had deeply wounded him.

“They gave me a pig!” He shrieked, tears finally falling from his violet eyes as you looked anywhere but at the mother and son before you. “They gave me a pig,” he admitted softer this time, sniffling with chagrin.

Guilt overcame you at the hurt your uncle displayed, emotions gathering in your throat as your digits went under your sleeves, tugging at the hair that had been bothering you all day. You didn’t realize the joke had wounded Aemond as profoundly as it had, shame rising and covering your heart.

“They said they had a dragon for me,” your uncle confessed, gaze downcast as Helaena began to lose interest in the conversation before her.

“The last ring has no legs at all,” she said as if you should also share her nonchalant sentiment and fall into her world. You ignored her; all your attention focused on the impending storm unleashed upon you once Aemond told Alicent what the four of you did.

“But it was a pig,” your uncle declared, a scornful gaze directed at you as Alicent turned to face your shrunken form.

“Is this true?” she interrogated, ire directed at you instead of her son as you hesitated. “Is it true?”

The Queen had never crossed with you before, and it caused an unwelcome sensation in your stomach. “I didn’t know they were going to do it!” you exclaimed, shame heating your cheeks. “I wouldn’t have let them if I knew!”

“Liar! You laughed!” Aemond protested, hurt evident in his voice as he pointed an accusing digit. “You and Aegon love to torment me!”

“Only because you do it first! You call me a bastard and pull my hair! I’m not a bastard!” you argued, tears wetting your cheeks at the intensity of your sudden anger.

The Queen’s disappointment abruptly left at your words, swiftly turning to Aemond as her face blanched. “Aemond, she is your kin. You mustn’t call her such things,” she implored, eyes wide with a meaning behind them you couldn’t place.

“But mother, you–”

“No, Aemond,” she interrupted urgently, stopping your uncle from saying something that would cause another uproar from you and find its way to Rhaenyra. “You must apologize. Both of you. You are family and need to be kind to one another even when they have upset you.” Alicent turned and extended a palm out, encouraging you to make the first step of amends for your participation in the cruel joke you played on Aemond.

You knew he would not accept your apology, though it was sincere. There was no intended malice with your laughter toward Aemond in the Pit. It was what was expected of you to do. You would have become his brother’s next victim if you hadn’t gone along with Aegon when Luke brought out the pig.

“I’m sorry, Aemond. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings,” you confessed, plucking at the hairs on your forearms to ease the discontent in your heart. He refused to reply with an apology of his own, glaring down at you with such a fierceness you feared that you would wilt. “You will have a dragon one day, uncle. There are many still unclaimed at Dragonstone, and wild ones too! Perhaps you could come with us when we visit in the summer?”

“You laughed,” Aemond glowered, voice cracking. The pain he disguised as anger slipped through his scornful mask, causing your mouth to be thick.

You could tell he wanted to hit you as he usually would in these situations; his hands balled into fists at his sides, but suddenly, they became limp, and a wave of affection and comfort for your uncle pulled you towards him. You wrapped your arms around Aemond, hugging him so tightly you were unsure if he could breathe, burying your face in his neck. After a long day outside, he smelled of sweat and dragon smoke, a hint of expensive amber-scented soap on his skin. Aemond did not return the action, but you sensed he no longer wanted to hurt you as much.

“I love you, uncle, and I know we’ll fly together on dragonback someday,” you encouraged, holding him impossibly tighter. Partly to distract yourself from your guilt and partly because you knew that despite his cold, sullen demeanor, he too enjoyed the rare warmth of embrace even though it was by the one he despised.

Human touch was still touch.

Alicent smiled, a joy welling inside her chest that she had not felt in decades. This was the start of something new, a seed planted in the first rays of spring with the hopes of a bountiful harvest in autumn, but Aemond refused to give it thought, focused only on the ridicule you, Aegon, and your brothers caused him.

You were not like Rhaenyra in more ways than the Queen initially thought. You were Alicent’s child, not in this life, but another where she was not a queen and was not a game piece her father moved about how he pleased. She could bring a proposal to match the one she rejected from Princess Rhaenyra with one of her sons. At least in that way, she could ensure your bright mind would not become tainted by Rhaenyra’s blackened rot.

The Queen gently stroked your and Aemond’s hair, a tender smile on her plump lips, and pressed a kiss atop both your crowns—so different yet so intertwined in ways children could not comprehend.

Alicent’s shining light, her dream. A dream that never was indeed hers.

“He will have to close an eye.”

Masterlist of Series

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The reader’s dragon is based on a snake that caught my eye while watching a Nat Geo documentary. It’s called Pope’s Green Pit Viper and is native to Southeast Asia. I initially didn’t think it was a real snake because it looked so cool! They are also the only snakes to give birth to live young, like mammals, and have heat vision.

Also, for those who don't know, Gaelithox is part of the Fourteen Flames, the Gods of Old Valyria. He's the god of fire, stars, moon, sun, and dawn, the rival of Meraxes. Pretty on the nose there, huh?

Thank you so much for reading! I’m so excited to have y’all see what I’ve been cooking up, and I look forward to hearing y’all’s thoughts!

Tagged Peeps: @millies0bsimp, @britt-mf, @marvelescvpe, @haikyuusboringassmanager

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aemondapologistfrfr · 5 months ago

Text

His Princess - Pt4

fancast!bloody ben x targ!fem!reader

Pt 1 Pt2 Pt 3

Summary: Vermithor accepts Ben as his rider and he takes to the skies with Silverwing. Y/n teaches him how to strengthen the bond and basic commands. A confession while Y/n gets into an argument with Baela and Jace.

Warnings: 18+ swearing, oral (m receiving), bathing, fingering, p in v, L word, very short snippet of Jace and Baela in Harrenhal

Authors Note: them riding the bonded dragons together is my roman empire rn, why shouldn’t riding bonded dragons cause a little bit of hot tension between these two?

Word Count: 5.6k

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

I study Ben’s features as I look at him in the early morning light. He’s sleeping so peacefully and I can’t help but think about what will happen shortly. He’s brave and fearless and absolutely fucking reckless and I’m hoping these traits will attract Vermithor. He’s been dwelling in the depths of the pits only emerging for food and Silverwing and just maybe he’ll come out for Ben. I straddle Ben and lean down to his neck.

“Wake up, Ben.” I whisper in his ear as my hair curtains around us. He slowly opens his eyes as they start to focus on me.

“Beautiful,” his voice gravely from sleep as he reaches up to kiss me while his hands travel up my legs on either side of him.

“Serve me,” I murmur softly as I kiss him once more.

“Serve me?” he pulls back breathing heavily.

“Very good, it means serve me.” I hum as I kiss him once more.

“Obey me,” I whisper against his lips.

“Obey me,” he moves his head up as I sit back looking down to him.

“Obey me,” his breath catches at my words.

“Hello, my fearsome Vermithor.” his eyes lock to mine at the familiar greeting.

“Hello, my fearsome Vermithor.” Ben’s voice is steady and strong.

“Hello, my fearsome Vermithor.” I nod my head to him.

He slowly starts to sit up as a smile begins to form across his face. He pulls me down to his lips as I gasp getting lost in him. He releases me and pulls me out of bed quickly. I shake my head at his enthusiasm, but his high energy will serve him well this morning. As we begin to dress I can feel his adrenaline pouring off of him.

We walk out of the castle and pick out plump cows before we begin to walk to the pits on the sands. He goes over the commands with me once again as we walk. On approach I hear Silverwings song coming from the depths. She slowly begins to emerge into the light and walk to me and Ben chirping creating a small sandstorm. Ben walks to her with a smile on his face.

“Hello, my beautiful Silverwing.” he smiles up at her as she pushes against his chest.

A smile spreads across my face at how truly magnificent it is that her and Ben have that connection. I don’t know how I didn’t see the signs earlier and shake my head at my panic last night. The pits begin to thunder as Vermithor reaches his claws out.

“Daughter,” Rhaenyras voice raised in panic as she starts down the walkway with the dragon keepers close on her heel.

“Stay back.” I shake my head raising my hands to them. If this is truly going to work it needs to be just us. He needs to show Vermithor no fear and that he doesn’t need a team of people to help him. I always believed it was the bravery and determination that enticed Silverwing.

Vermithors maw reaches out into the sun as his teeth glisten in its rays. His full head reaches out at his eyes narrow on the cattle. I walk to Ben’s side and grab his hand in mine. Silverwing surrounds us with her legs as Vermithor starts to fully emerge, his claws digging into the sand.

“Daughter, please,” Rhaenyras choked words come across barely audible over Vermithor and Silverwings grumbles and chuffs.

He approaches and towers high above us looking down curiously. Silverwing rises to his height and pushes her snout to his. Vermithor chuffs and turns his head huffing his breath down on us. He backs up and lowers his head to study us as Silverwings jaws rest over him.

“Hello, my fearsome Vermithor.” Ben’s words are laced with wonder and awe as he looks to Vermithor who tilts his head ever so slightly.

“Serve me, obey me,” he turns as his hand slips out of mine as he extends his hands out to Vermithors snout. “And I shall serve and obey you.” he speaks in the common tongue and bows his head.

Vermithor breathes out deeply as he looks to Silverwing before looking back down to Ben and me. His head lowers and he pushes his snout to Ben’s outstretched hands with a low groan. My breath catches as Ben’s head snaps up to Vermithor.

“You honor me, Vermithor.” he breathes out wildly as a smile spreads across his face.

Vermithor shuts his eyes as Ben begins to bravely pat along his neck. I can hear him whispering soft words of how fearsome and handsome he is as he walks around him. Ben comes back around the other side of his body as I stand there in awe. Ben stands back and looks up to him.

“I’ve brought you something, give me a moment.” Ben’s voice laced with adrenaline as he makes his way back to the cattle.

He collects the lead the cattle are tied to as he brings them to Vermithor. He grumbles out as Ben and I step further back as he scorches them. Silverwing stomps around us to feast with him. Once they’re done we walk up to them at a loss for words, I still can’t believe the events unfolding before me.

“Shall we fly?” I look to Ben and then up at the dragons.

“Can we? My fearsome Vermithor?” his eyes light up with excitement.

Vermithor grunts and dips down for Ben to mount. I shake my head as a laugh bubbles out of me in pure amazement. I nod to him as I mount Silverwing. I watch Ben settle into the saddle and secure the clips to him. Ben leans down whispering something to Vermithor. He shakes out his spine as he starts into a run. I watch shocked as I see Vermithor take to the skies for the first time in years.

Silverwing shoots us into the sky after them as she sings a song to Vermithor. He replies with his own grumbles as I see Ben wildly laughing atop him. My heart soars as I see Vermithor push them further and twist around in the sea. Silverwing chases after them and dips us in the water.

They fly wing to wing on the breeze around the island until they land outside the pits and walk us inside. I dismount and turn to watch Ben do the same. He pats Vermithor who grumbles and turns to go rest with Silverwing. Once they’re deep in the pits he turns to me with wide eyes.

“My fearsome Ben.” I smile to him breathlessly as he runs to me.

He pulls me into a feverish kiss and his arms hold me tight. I drink in his adrenaline as we consume each other. Rhaenyra and Daemon clear their throats from the doorway as we pull apart.

“Congratulations,” Rhaenyra shakes her head in disbelief as she looks to both of us.

“You’re actually fucking mad.” Daemon chuckles nodding his head to Ben in approval.

“How was it? How do you feel?” I look to him with adoration holding his face and looking him over.

“It was amazing,” Ben shakes his head. “I feel,” he’s at a loss and I know exactly what’s going through his mind. The power and the connection are still so fresh and coursing through him.

“Go rest off the adrenaline. We can begin lessons later.” she smiles and looks relieved.

“Thank you, Rhaenyra.” Ben lowers his head as his hand grabs mine.

It feels as if there’s pure electricity flowing between us. I pull Ben back up to my chambers and seal the doors behind us. I walk to him as his hands pull me against him. I look up to him in absolute amazement as I offer him a blinding kiss. I pull away breathless before I drop to my knees before him.

“I am in awe of you,” my words barely a whisper as I look up to him. “Benjicot Blackwood. Rider of Vermithor.” adoration dripping off of my tongue as my hands travel up his legs.

“Y/n,” my name sounds like a prayer as he caresses the side of my jaw while he looks down to me with dark eyes.

I reach up and begin to unlace his trousers while blinking up to him. I see his chest rapidly rising and falling as my hand slips below and curls around him. As I free him of his trousers I take in his red, leaking tip. I lick around his tip as my fingers dance around his length. I pull back and slowly lick along the underside from his base back up while keeping eye contact with him.

“Fuck Y/n,” he pants with flushed cheeks.

I swirl my tongue around him and slowly sink my mouth down. Whatever I can’t fit in my mouth I pump with a tight fist. I hear his breath coming out in pants above me as I speed my movements. I bring my other hand up to his balls and his hand tangles itself in my hair.

“Y/n, I’m gunna-” his words are cut off with a groan as I hum around him while pushing him to the back of my throat.

I moan as his hand pulls my hair while his hips shutter and I accept everything he gives me. I slowly move my mouth off of him and offer licks to his over sensitive tip until he pulls me back by my hair. I look up to him blinking innocently while his breathing begins to settle.

I rise up to him and kiss him softly. He grunts as I help him back into his trousers and begin to lace them back up. He pulls back as our breath continues to mingle. He lets out a low chuckle and I tilt my head to him.

“Come, let me fix your hair, my Princess.” he smiles kissing the side of my head before leading me to my vanity.

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

As we enter the library Rhaenyra is sitting at the table looking over old texts. A smile spreads across her face when she notices our approach. We claim seats around the circular table and wait for her word.

“I must admit I’m still in shock.” she shakes her head at a loss. “I would like explain to you what it truly means to be a dragon rider, especially during times of war.” her words become serious and we sit up straighter.

“I’m willing to do whatever is needed.” Ben nods his head.

“I know you are no stranger to battle, but with dragons it’s different. You’ve seen the advantage they offer when they’re on your side.” she nods to me. “But if you find yourself up against another dragon it will be one of the most petrifying moments of your life, if not the last.” her eyes look off as she tries to blink back tears.

My mind drifts to Luke at this line of talk. Arrax was just a baby and Luke just a boy. I understand Jaces motives, but in those first days I was thankful he was away in the North to escape my rage. My hand reaches out to hers and she offers me a sad smile before she solidifies herself and starts again.

“It will never be my want to send dragons to battle other dragons, but as of late it seems my wants are simply that: wants. Y/n will be able to assist you with learning how to control and channel emotions during high tense situations. Vermithor is very formidable and with him at Silverwings side,” she shakes her head. “You both may save us yet.” her eyes look between us.

“We will see you sit the throne.” I nod my head to her, my words a promise.

“I have had books pulled that I think will help offer assistance in learning High Valyrian. I’ve also had them bring out Visenyas old lessons in hopes that they can offer more insight. Y/n is very smart, use her knowledge to your advantage, learn everything you can from her.” she rises from the table and places her hand on Ben’s shoulder. “Thank you, Ben.” she nods her head to him and leaves us to studying.

“So you’re going to be my teacher?” he turns to me licking his lips.

“I hope you’re ready. My lessons are very rigorous.” I hum as I get up to reach across the table to grab a book.

“What do I get if I do well?” his voice low as his hands travel to my backside as I’m bent over the table.

“Benjicot Blackwood.” I scold grabbing his wrist roughly. “You will get nothing if you don’t stay focused.” I hiss as he smiles at my tinted cheeks.

“I feel like you could come up with a more creative punishment.” he whispers into my ear once I claim my seat once more.

I huff and glare at him with a fierce blush. I push a book into his lap and I leave the table to go find him more helpful books and parchments. As return I see that he has actually begun to read the book I gave him and I place more items at his side. I sit across from him and begin to look through what’s before me and begin to jot down important points.

He continues to read for an hour while I write down notes. I peek at him every once in a while as he looks through the scattered parchments around him. His eyes look up and lock with mine before I look away as I feel a blush creep up my neck.

“My love,” his low words caress my ears as my eyes shoot to his.

“My love,” my words barely a whisper.

“My love, when you blush like that it makes it hard for me not to tease you.” My cheeks heat even more to my distress. “Translate it, please.” he smirks to me.

“My love, when you blush like that it makes it hard for me not to tease you.” I look to him for him to repeat it. He doesn’t much to my frustration and I fume. “If you’re done torturing me, I have some notes I’d like to share with you.” I clear my throat as he leans back in his chair smiling to me.

“Of course, my Princess.” he looks over to me his focus attuned to my words and the knowledge I’m bestowing onto him.

“There are many commands that I would prefer to focus on before general speach. Vermithor can feel your intentions and feelings when you speak to him and pat him. I would rather you know what to say when flying than when you’re bringing our dragons food.” I look over my list of important commands and offer it to him.

“I can keep this?” he asks while scanning over the list.

“Yes, of course. Although, I should hope you would remember them and not pull out a piece of parchment mid flight.” A smirk plays on my lips.

“I shall study dutifully, but I can multitask if needed.” he folds the piece of paper slipping it into his pocket with a sly smile.

“Another important piece of information to keep in mind is that your emotions are deeply connected and not just when you’re flying together. Over time you’ll be able to feel it more intensely as you build trust and boundaries. A dragon is not a horse and will not tolerate being treated as one. Vermithor chose you and you must rise to the title he has appointed you.” I study him as he absorbs and listens to every word I speak.

“I shall be the rider he sees me as.” He nods his head and I can feel the confidence pouring off of him from across the table.

“You’ve become one of the most powerful men in the realm today.” I stroke his growing ego because the look suits him.

“I am yours first.” his words float around my heart.

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

Over the last fortnight Ben has learned an astonishing amount. He has his commands committed to memory and begun to focus on learning the language now. We take our dragons out flying everyday along the coasts and float on the breeze around the stoney island in the moonlight.

Tonight we flew for hours under the stars as our dragons sang to each other. As our boots touch the sand Ben twirls me into the moonlight. We dance together using the waves as our music. He holds me tightly as we continue to sway.

“You look the most divine in the moonlight.” Ben extends his arms so he can look me over.

We stroll into the castle he grabs my hand with his. I’ve been so happy and free lately that it’s hard for me to face the reality that Ben and I are going to be sent back to Harrenhal in the morning. Rhaenyra thinks it’ll be best to send us further from the Crownlands so they don’t see we’ve gained a new rider.

“Thank the Gods,” I sigh as I see my bath still streaming.

I begin stripping off my gear as Ben follows chuckling. He helps me remove the rest of my clothing before helping me dip into the bath. He pulls up a stool next to the tub to keep me company and offers me soaps and oils. He lathers soap into a cloth and offers it to me. I smile as I hold my arm and look to him.

He chuckles grabbing my arm and begins to clean me. His rough hands scrape against my skin as he tries to keep his touch light. He outstretches his hand for my other arm and I happily raise it for him. He moves around the bath and continues to clean. His hands dip into the bath to clean my legs as I look to him with heavy lids.

Every time he trails the cloth up my thigh his fingers trail along my slit. I try to control my breathing and he starts on my next leg. I spread my legs as he chuckles lowly. His fingers linger on my core before he pulls them away again.

“Ben,” I whine frustrated.

“Yes, my Princess?” I whimper at his High Valyrian and his teasing fingers that continue on my legs.

“I need you,” I look to him with pleading eyes.

“I’m right here.” he chuckles as he pulls the cloth out of the water discarding it.

“You know what I mean,” I roll my eyes at his smirk.

“Mm, enlighten me.” he licks his lips.

I push him back with a wet hand and he topples off of the stool to the ground in a fit of laughter. I rise from the bath and find a towel and begin to dry myself off as he continues to giggle from the ground. I wrap the towel around myself and look down to him before he pulls himself up to tower above me.

He kisses my furrowed brow as I continue to glare at him. He chuckles lowly as he begins to pepper kisses across my face trying to get a reaction out of me. One of his hands lands on my back and pulls me against him.

“How long are you going to pout at me?” He kisses the side of my mouth before he starts to kiss my neck while it takes all my strength not to melt into his touch.

His hand on my back scrunches the towel in his fist and pulls it from my body. I shiver at the breeze and lean into his warmth. I feel him smile against my neck as his tongue dances along my pulse. His other hand makes its way to my wetness and I bite down on my lip not wanting to give him the satisfaction. His fingers swirl around my clit causing me to shutter.

“How does that feel?” he slowly pumps a finger into me as a whimper falls from my lips as I internally groan. “Yeah, does it feel good?” he purrs as his thumb circles my clit.

My hands fly to his arms and dig in for support. I rest my forehead against his chest as he adds another finger. He continues to slowly pump them into me as I breathe heavily. A moan falls from my mouth as he curls his fingers. I focus on my breathing until he starts roughly pounding his fingers into me.

“Fuck Ben, please,” I sob into his chest giving in. Whimpers fall from my mouth as my nails dig into his arms as his fingers continue. My hips grind against his hand seeking pleasure.

“Ben,” his name slips from my mouth as my thighs squeeze around his hand as pleasure flows through me. My breathing settles as my thighs spread to release his hand.

I look up to him and his lips smother mine. His tongue pushes its way into my mouth to slide against mine. My hands begin pulling off his clothes and he brings his own hands to help speed along the process. He pushes me softly back onto the bed and settles between my legs. He grinds against my wetness before sliding in.

He slowly pulls out and looks down to my squirming body. He dips back into me pulling a whine from my lips. My legs hook around his waist hoping he’ll start moving. I start to jerk my hips trying to get my own friction.

“Gods look at you,” he growls as he watches me with dark eyes.

His movements are quick as he flips us while staying inside. He helps me adjust my position so my knees are on the bed and I begin to ride him. His fingers dig into my hips as I grind and bounce against him. I toss my head back as my hands fly to my breasts and tease my nipples.

“You’re perfect,” he groans before he attaches his thumb to my clit.

A moan rips through me as my hips grind into his faster as I use him for my pleasure. His thumb quickens its ministrations and I explode around him. My hips shutter as he removes his thumb and brings it back to my waist. I lean down and capture his lips with mine as he begins to thrust up into me. I whine against his mouth as I clench around him.

“You always feel so good, my Princess.” he murmurs against my lips as he begins to chase his own pleasure. I burry my head in his neck as my hips move to meet his as pleasure begins tearing through me again. His hips falter as he settles inside of me with my name on his lips.

I roll off of him and cuddle into his side. He turns his head and kisses me tenderly. I sigh into his mouth as I get caught up in him once more. He pulls back chuckling and pulls the blankets over us.

“Rest, we have an early morning.” he kisses my forehead as I close my eyes.

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

Harrenhal Pov:

The Lords get jittery as the end of the week approaches as their proper commanders are due to return with news. Jace and Baela have been able to work alongside these Lords and their men. The host works seamlessly together and had no issue integrating Baela and Jace into their everyday routine.

“How do you think Y/n will be when they arrive tomorrow?” Jace bites his lip looking to Baela.

“I think you’ll be lucky if she doesn’t pull her sword on you.” Baela chuckles as she continues to pack her bag.

“Well he lived so I don’t see what the big issue is.” Jace sighs as he claims a chair by the window.

“Oh she’ll tell you the big issue.” Baela shakes her head at him.

“I’m actually quite excited to see Vermithor in all his glory. He’s fucking mad for even attempting to claim a dragon.” Jace tries to think of the last time he’s even laid eyes upon Vermithor.

“I can see why Y/n chose him.” Baela hums tossing her bag by the door.

“Can you?” Jaces tone playful as he raises his eyebrow at her.

“You think our sister wouldn’t want the man who is known as Bloody Ben? Who is crazy enough to ride on Silverwing? The man who has now claimed Vermithor? I wouldn’t be surprised if they came back married.” she surmises before tucking her self into bed.

“Mother would never allow it without us there.” he carries himself to the bed and pulls Baela against him.

“You truly think they would ask mother?” Baela giggles resting her head on his chest.

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

Y/n pov:

Silverwing glides along the clouds as I coast my fingers through them. Ben and Vermithor fly below us always watching out for potential hosts. We were lucky not to encounter anyone on the way back to Dragonstone and I’m hoping we have the same luck this early in the morning.

I sigh in relief as the towers of Harrenhal come into view. Silverwing lands by Moondancer and Vermax while Vermithor circles the castle offering a low song. The towers crumble at the reverberations and he dips and thuds on the ground next to Silverwing. I look over to Ben who gives me a wicked grin. We both dismount and lug our bags with us.

“How was the flight?” I walk up to him as Silverwing and Vermithor brush each other’s snouts affectionately.

“Thrilling.” he looks down to me and offers me a soft kiss.

“Y/n!” I hear Jaces voice behind me.

“You can come save him in one minute.” I whisper against Ben’s mouth as he looks at me curiously before I turn on my heel.

I walk up to Jace and punch him in his face. I bring my other fist up but before I can land my second blow Ben pulls me back. I glare at Jace who is now cupping his face and I look to Baela wounded.

“How dare you both?” my words laced with hurt. “You could so easily lie to my face? You can see how deeply I care for him and you would so quickly have me fly him into a dragons mouth?” I look to them waiting for their answer.

“We couldn’t risk you running away with him. Not when we need you, sister.” Baela words are soft as she looks to me.

“A warning would’ve been nice. Even a hint. Not just oh mother wants to know how the host is and she wants to meet Ben.” I narrow my eyes at her and Jace.

“Well he’s obviously fine,” Jace drawls wincing as he touches his nose.

“He’s fine!” I tilt my head back and laugh. Ben is still holding on to my arm firmly still not trusting my temper. “Let me not forget that mother told me this was your idea.” anger radiates off of me.

“Daemon suggested Ben.” Baela interrupts trying to alleviate some of my anger directed at Jace.

“Another piece of information I was denied,” I shake my head at a loss. “We are not pawns you can move about a board. Give us the respect we deserve. We raised this host. We have been holding this castle for mother.” my voice rising with each word.

“We do respect you and care for you deeply.” Baelas eyes search mine.

“Then show it. Do not keep things from me that could put the man I love within The Strangers grasp.” Ben’s hand tightens around my arm and pulls me around towards him.

“Do you mean that?” Ben looks down to me.

“Ben one min-“ I go to turn back to my siblings.

“No, no,” he turns me back to him pulling my chin to look at him. “Do you love me?” my eyes lock onto his as I finally realize my words.

“I do,” I whisper as my cheeks redden.

“Make up with your siblings and send them on their way.” the promise of what comes after is laced through his words that he whispers to me. I turn to look to Baela and Jace who are smiling at me.

“I will hear your apology. Make it quick.” I purse my lips and Ben’s hand squeezes mine at my tone.

“I’m sorry my perfect and amazing sister. I’m sorry I made the man you love claim one of the best dragons.” I roll my eyes at his words and turn to Baela.

“I’m sorry we’re still lingering when I can tell you two would like to get to,” she clears her throat. “more pressing matters.” Jaces chuckles with her.

“Apologies accepted.” I nod my head. “I saw no hosts or dragons on the way here so you both should have safe travels home.”

They smile to me and come hug me as I groan. Jace shakes Ben’s hand and congratulates him. They offer us waves as their dragons chuff before shooting them into the sky.

“So you love me?” Ben looks down to me smiling widely.

“Do you love me?” I look up to him.

“I don’t know, I mean, I thought we were pretty casual.” my nostrils flare at his taunting words as he continues to smile at me.

“Benjicot,” I warn through my teeth.

“I have loved you for a while now,” pulls me to him shushing me.

“Well say it then.” I look up to him expectantly.

“I love you.” his eyes search mine.

I grab his hand and pull him after me back into the gates. As we try to rush through the main hall the Lords stop us and welcome us back. The energy between us is crackling and I have no idea how the Lords can’t see or feel it.

“Why is there another dragon here?” one of the Lords towards the back asks.

“I’ve claimed him.” Ben says looking to all of the Lords.

“You?” hushed murmurs spread throughout the hall.

“Yes, now if you’ll excuse us. We’ve had a long flight and would like to rest. We will have a meeting later.” He dismisses the Lords and pulls us up the steps to our chambers.

He seals the doors and stalks over to me. We pull each other’s clothes off in a rush, backing up in hopes of landing on the bed. A loud groan cuts through me as he walks me back into a table.

“Ow,” I whine clutching on to him.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes out kissing me once more.

He lifts me up into the lip of the table and thrusts into me a moment later. The table groans against his rough pace as I whimper clinging to him. His lips kiss and bite across my neck as I toss my head back.

“I don’t know what it is,” Ben grunts as his hips continue to snap into mine.

“What?” the word is followed by a loud moan.

“All I want to do is fuck you, it’s all I think about lately.” he pants as his fingers dig into my hips.

I come undone at his words as I cry out his name. He continues to pound into me as my back thuds against the table. He reaches down to pinch my nipples. My hands rest over his wrists as he continues to pull and twist. My legs begin to shake around him as I explode feeling him fill me.

“Ben,” I whine pulling him down to me. I keep him against me as our breathing settles. When we finally pull apart we walk back to the bed with flushed cheeks.

“I know what you mean about what you said earlier.” my voice hushed as he crawls into bed after me.

“What?” he looks to me curiously.

“I think of you all day, like more than normal.” I feel my cheeks flush.

“Mm, what is the normal amount of times to think about me between your thighs?” he smirks.

“I’m sure it’s not every time I’m around you. I feel like it could have something to do with our dragons being so closely bonded as we are. I should send word to my mother to see if she can send books,” I ramble as he begins to chuckle.

“And tell her what? That you think about me fucking you too much?” he shakes his head laughing as his hands slide against my thigh.

“Ben,” I warn but it comes out more breathy.

“Really? That fast?” he teases me, continuing to ghost his fingers on my bare leg.

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

masterlist 🔌

when this was supposed to be a one shot and now i’m sad at the thought of even finishing this fic 🥲

Part 5

#ben blackwood x reader #benjicot blackwood smut #benji blackwood #benjicot x reader #benjicot blackwood #benjicot blackwood x reader #fancast bloody ben #bloody ben hotd #bloody ben smut #bloody ben x reader #hotd x reader #x reader imagine #x reader smut #hotd smut #hotd fanfic #bloody ben fluff

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bigtedbear · 5 months ago

Text

“ 𝐮𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐯𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 “

𝐩𝐫𝗼𝗺𝐩𝐭 : 𝗺𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐥𝐲 𝐲𝐚𝐧! 𝐝𝐚𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐧𝐠 𝐠𝗼𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝗼 𝐚𝐧 𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝗺𝐢𝐝 𝐜𝗼𝐧𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐢𝗼𝐧

Content warnings : nsfw content ahead, 18+ 𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈, dragon anatomy..., breeding kink, unsafe sex (don't be silly, wrap up your willy), yandere themes, implied intent to baby trap, mlm, bl, gay sex, anal sex, idk if this counts as dubcon on either end??? (reader says no a lot but it's out of respect for dan heng rather than not wanting to????" ~7.5k words? (don't quote me, I'm guesstimating)

“ new contact noted! caller 𝚒𝚕 𝚍𝚊𝚗 𝚑𝚎𝚗𝚐 has been added to your phonebook - love, 𝑜𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑎𝑡𝑜𝑟 𝑡-19 “

"Please remember, this conversation isn't meant to make you feel uncomfortable in any way possible, I understand the questions we're moving onto may be..." Your fingers halted on your keyboard, mulling over your choice of words carefully. ..."uncomfortable to answer or inappropriate to ask." You finally pried your eyes away from your screen to make eye contact with the archivist. "So, please, please, feel free to decline to answer any questions, ask to take a break, or end the questions entirely."

How lovely; that you were so oblivious, Dan Heng noted in his mind. He'd been clearly eyeing you up over the table for the entire hour the two of you had discussed the history of the Vidyadhara. Yet, despite the glances you stole at him to make occasional eye contact while you took your notes, you had yet to notice anything amiss.

Not the abundance of information flowing past his lips, eager to please and more than willing to tell you anything and everything you wanted to hear from him; not the hopelessly lost look in his eyes, turquoise tracing each and every little different movement you made as you typed away; not even the clear and obvious rubbing of his thighs together; the clammy, shaky nature of his hands and each and every one of their careful movements; not even the obvious red hue that blotted his cheeks and flushed the tips of his pointy ears a bashful pink.

"Of course."

You nodded, a silent acknowledgement as you consulted a clipboard you'd pushed off to the side for the relevant questions you'd been meaning to ask. "You stated previously that the extent any Vidyadhara manifests more draconic features is reliant on their previous lives, is there any distinctions between those who outwardly display these traits?"

"Yes, no new Vidyadharas can be born, only through rebirth do any vidyadhara children come to be." He bit his lip, letting his thoughts ruminate, "Because of this, those who hold certain titles and authorities maintain this authority in all of their lives once they've regained memories of their past. While there are distinctions between Vidyadharas, it's not so much based on how we present but how we present is related to how strong our affinity is to certain rites and abilities related to our predecessors."

He tried to wipe his clammy hands off on his pants, but felt no relief at all. There was some kind of anxiety brewing inside of him and he couldn't pin what was causing it. It didn't help that you were moving onto the biology section of your questions, intimate knowledge of his body that nobody else knew. It brought him some comfort that your own cheeks were tinted a light pink out of general embarrassment.

He felt himself settle down more, but he also knew these would be the easy questions. It wasn't as though things would get more simple, to come up with complex questions, you'd need to know the basics.

Aeons, the things he would do just to steal your attention for just a few, fleeting moments.

Dan Heng's stomach dropped.

It shouldn't have showed up for at least another month, he realized. There hadn't been any sign of his heat rearing its ugly head in the slightest as of late.

He would know, he consistently tracked any and all symptoms for cases like this. He dreaded the idea of being stuck on a trailblazing mission and suddenly going into heat, but this was arguably a million times worse.

Dan Heng's idea of the most attractive man in the cosmos, sitting across from him with only a small coffee table separating them. He'd let out his horns and tails so you could sketch them down on a spare sheet of paper and you were far too close for his self-restraint's comfort. He carefully licked over his teeth in his mouth, hoping to find some kind of way to slip away from the conversation in due time. However, all hopes of this were dashed when you sheepishly made a small request of him.

"Do you think I could get a look at your fangs?"

He felt his entire body light aflame with red, hot desire tucked beneath a careful casing of embarrassment entwined with dread.

Upon noticing his apprehension, you were careful to notify him that he didn't need to do anything for you in the slightest. "I understand if that's uncomfortable, I would never want to force you to do anything that would cross any boundaries of yours. You can say-"

"Sure."

You blinked at him owlishly, snapping your jaw shut quietly. Doing your best to not miss a beat or make Dan Heng uncomfortable, you tried (and failed) to regain your composure and reinstate your more professional demeanor. Much to your chagrin, your pink cheeks and stammering gave you away. "Oh, I, uh, Alright-" you cleared your throat, gazing down at your clipboard nervously, "Whenever you're ready."

He opened his mouth slowly, allowing his fangs to be put on full display. His breath hitched in his mouth when you stood up from the couch across from him to sitting on the couch next to him. He could feel his heartbeat picking up and more heat pooling between his thighs when you started scooting in closer.

He squirmed under your watchful eyes, pitifully aroused and unbearably hot, but unable to do anything about it. You made quick work of sketching the basics of his dental layout, noting sharper fangs but also his forked tongue. You made a quiet observation, but you were hesitant to ask for further clarification.

"I- Nevermind."

Dan Heng did his best to keep his voice and breathing steady, but he couldn't help the tremble in his voice when he asked "What is it?"

You shook your head, "Your dental structure and the curvature of your fangs is similar to that of a few snake species I've had the ability to work with." You hesitated again to continue. But the sharp turquoise eyes on you made you feel an obligation to explain yourself, "I wanted to see if you, well, if you might have a Jacobson's organ but-" you cut yourself off again. You bit the inside of your cheek, squeezing out the last bit of your explanation quickly, "the location of the organ is in a bit of a compromising positions and it'd be so, so inappropriate of me to ask if I could see it-"

"I'm fine with that."

You froze, your face erupting in a flaming red as you stuttered over yourself, trying to explain the implications of looking at someone's Jacobson Organ. The little sadist in Dan Heng's heart was ecstatic to watch you get flustered, to watch you try to be as respectful as possible and keep that platonic wall firmly between the two of you.

He could feel it slowly starting to crack, continuing to shift in his seat as he waited for you to quiet down and actually get on with it. He murmured out a quiet affirmation that he truly was fine with it.

"I know what it means to look at it, I'm telling you I don't mind."

You averted eye contact for a moment before gulping down some spit and carefully setting your pen down on your clipboard, you hesitantly reached towards his face. You stopped about a foot away, inquiring meekly, "May I?"

He was quick to nod, a little too quick to be completely innocent. You didn't seem to pick up on it though, capturing his jaw between your pointer finger and thumb. He relished the skin on skin contact, drunk on the way your skin felt cool and welcoming on his own burning temperature.

You tilted his head up to get a look at the roof of his mouth, spotting the small mass behind the top front row of his teeth. You did your best to make quick observations so you didn't need to embarrass dan heng anymore than he most likely already was.

He, on the other hand, didn't want the moment to end. You were so close to him, your face just barely a foot away from his, looking at an intimate part of his anatomy. His eyes were half-lidded, sweat accumulating on his forehead rapidly. He didn't know why he didn't check out of the questionnaire the moment he knew his heat was coming on, but somewhere in the haze of his brain there was a small inkling as to why.

The longer your hand lingered on his chin, he could feel your pheromones start to waft up his nose and it was getting hard to see straight. The Jacobson's Organ itself was an organ meant to signal and interpret both signs of aggressive from others of your species, but also to signal a willingness to mate. Dan Heng's was sending electric signals pulsing through his cranium every second you peered at it from his jaw.

When your hand tried to retract from his jaw, he grabbed your wrist and pressed it onto his cheek.

It was only then you realized just how quickly his skin was rising in temperature.

He writhed on your mattress, your smell wafting addictively through the air as he did his best to peel his clothes off. He wasn't having much success, the sweat having just about fused it with his skin. You had rushed off earlier somewhere with a few words he couldn't hear over the pounding of his heart in his ears.

He only managed to yank off his large overcoat and kick off his shoes and socks when you returned to the room. He was fumbling with various buttons and zippers on his top when you burst through your bedroom door with just about as many pillows and blankets as you could find in the short time you were gone.

You were fumbling over your words apologizing for not realizing sooner, saying you assumed Vidyadhara didn't have heat periods because they reproduced asexually. Your voice was in one ear and out the other as his fingers weakly and clumsily tried to pull his shirt over his head, but he noted that your arms were loaded to the brim with plush, soft, luxury pillows and blankets.

Nesting materials.

He was growing more and more desperate to get his clothes off of him as you dropped the pillows and blankets on the bed, apologizing over and over with a red face. He gave a needy huff when his fingers dropped the clasp of his shirt again. He couldn't get it off of him and he could feel frustrated tears settling in.

That was, until you started helping him out of his clothes.

You noticed his struggles and tentatively asked him if he needed help in this honey sweet voice, always stopping between each and every article of clothing you tenderly stripped off of him to make sure he was sure he was okay with you helping him out.

Soon enough he was left in nothing but his boxers as you excused yourself to start building up his nest for his comfort. You promised him you'd contact Caelus or someone else from the express to pick him up or at the very least explain the situation. He didn't answer, just about writhing in the middle of the bed, mind going fuzzy with the overwhelming feeling of you surrounding him.

He felt comfortable as he watched the plush walls being built around him, clutching on your blanket in particular as he could feel his hips begin rutting pathetically against the mattress. He buried his face in the soft fabric to try and hide his shame, all while huffing in your scent like cocaine.

Too many sensations, to many sounds, to many smells, his body concluded; throwing him into a haze of seeking blind release on your blanket. He hadn't even noticed you calling for his attention from next to your nightstand, setting down a pager and some water.

"-an Heng! Dan Heng!"

He finally snapped his eyes up to gaze at you, a little bit of drool leaking from the corner of his mouth and his eyes glassy.

You gulped down some saliva to wet your dry throat before continuing, "I'm leaving, but there's a pager on the nightstand if you need anything."

There was some kind of deep noise that escaped from his throat, at the thought of you leaving. "Where are you going?"

You raised a hand, trying your best to dissuade his worries. "I'm at fault for this mess, I can just crash in Arlan's room or find a temporary one. I can't possibly ask you to move during your heat period."

He dragged himself closer to the edge of the bed, closer to you, as he tried his best to stop his hips from rutting against the wall of pillows and blankets you hastily built up for him. "You can st-stay." There was rumbling in his throat, one you realized was purring. He was trying to entice you into bed with him.

Your face pulsed a deep crimson as you vehemently shook your head, "You aren't in your right mind, I would never even think of taking advan-"

He whined, grabbing blindly for your arms as his hips started to move against the wall of pillows. "Need- Need something, someone, need you-" he cut himself off with a curse as he felt a growing knot of arousal build up more in his stomach.

At this point he was pulling on your arms, trying to pull you in closer, down into the nest. His torso lunging forward to press his face into the skin of your neck, he was just about whimpering directly into your ear while humping the bed.

"D-Dan Heng, you're in heat, I couldn't do something like that to you-" you stammered, trying to draw away from him. His insistent groveling was starting to get to you.

He tried pulling you down into the nest again, hands reaching up to your shoulders to push off the pristine white coat you usually wore. His little whimpers were growing desperate, practically begging for you to take care of him.

Your hands gripped his wrists, sending another spark of arousal up his spine, he couldn't even hear your next words, "This isn't right, you probably wouldn't be talking to me like this if you weren't in heat."

His thighs shook under him, looking at you with half-lidded eyes as you put your coat back on your shoulders so you could leave. "Wait-Wait, please don't go- ah~"

"If you need anything, I left a pager on the nightstand. When your heat is over we can talk-"

He whined his protests, but you adamantly let go of his wrists and he could feel himself getting more and more desperate to keep you in his nest as your delicious scent wafted away from him. "I think of you so, so muchhhsh, it's not just the heat." He mewled when he brought your blanket to his nose.

He let out an unintentional purr when you stopped just short distance away from your door. You turned to look at him. He pushed his hips against the fabric of the blanket and the sheets, already soaking both his boxers and your precious blanket with the scent of sex. "Y-You never talk to me unless you need to know something- agh~" his hips stuttered against the mattress again. "Have you ever considered my feelings?" He let out another moan when he ground particularly hard into the bed.

"What are you talking about?"

He keened when he felt your attention on him again, really playing up the pathetic act he was putting on. "Twice a year- hah~" he practically melted against your bed when he found the right angle to move his hips at, picking up the pace quickly. "-you're all I can think about. Alone in my room while the others are gone and I'm making a mess of myself."

He let out another drawn out whimper when you stepped closer to the bed, "Y-You never even spared me more than a glance- hngh~" he grunted when your blanket slid against the mess he was making of your bed, "I wanted you soooo ba-had~"

He crawled over to the edge of his nest to where you were standing, doing his best to reach out to you and make some kind of contact with your skin. "I want you- mmmnnhg~ right now, I n-need you here-" he gave a whine when you interlaced your fingers with him, his hips growing faster against the wall of the nest. "I want y-your, ouhh~, want your heellpppp-"

You considered your options carefully. Dan Heng certainly wasn't bad looking, in fact, you could feel yourself getting a less than respectable boner at the sight of him basically bashing his hips against your blanket. You had his prior consent, knowledge of an... intimate attraction at the very least. Last but not least, you felt partially responsible for the state he was in, despite his heat cycle having nothing to do with you.

You sighed, biting the inside of your cheek as Dan Heng put the hand intertwined with his own to his nose, sucking in the smell of your skin harshly. He was basically having the time of his life, eyes squeezed shut and his grunts and groans getting pitchier and pitchier with each passing moment.

You supposed you had to take responsibility for his little mess.

You let out a little groan of pain into his vent when he tugged harshly at your hair. He was just about jerking you further into his nether regions with one hand while he looped his fangs around one of his fingers on the other. His tail squeezed your upper bicep. You were laying on your stomach, going down on him with his legs thrown over you shoulders.

His little whimpers and whines weren't much to go off when it came to seeing what he liked most. Instead, you would go off the little things like the twitch of his thighs around your head or the way his hand tightened in your hair. There were actually a few things you figured out would get him to jerk his hips up into your mouth. Specifically, he really liked it when you managed to get your tongue inside his cloaca and tease the tips of his cocks.

You pulled your mouth off of his hips, relishing in his small protest. He keened, his hips chasing after your slick stained lips. You ignored his nonverbal begging for more, instead snuggly wrapping your biceps around his hips and squaring them back down on the pillow he was propped up on. You hadn't exactly done anything like this before, but that definitely didn't mean you weren't willing to learn.

Instead of going back in to continue teasing his slit, you focused your attention on what was slowly everting out of it. Your thumb traced over the slit of the dick that had just barely begun poking its head out his vent. You earned a muffled groan from Dan Heng, who was doing his best to muffle his noises on his finger. For his own dignity, you let him.

You tentatively licked over the tip just to gauge his sensitivity and were kindly rewarded with more of his cock sliding out and the second one just barely sliding emerging as well. The precum oozing off the tips tasted just like his slick, mouth numbingly sweet. It wasn't any kind of flavored sweet, actually it was almost like drinking a mouthful of sugar water; something you mentally took note of.

His fingers were just about digging into your scalp now, pushing your face down closer to him. He was trying to wiggle his hips up closer to your mouth, but your arms kept him firmly pressed down as you continued to mercilessly tease him. He sucked in a sharp breath when you finally took one in your mouth, going down slowly until your nose was flush with his pubic bone. You traced over the underside with an experimental flick of the tongue.

In turn, his thighs twitched to clamp your head in place, delivering a delicious pressure that kept you locked in between his legs. You felt the heel of his foot push into your back right between your shoulder blades. He tugged on your hair again, letting out a pathetic hiccup when you maneuvered your hand underneath his little leg lock to tease the opening of his vent.

He shivered deliciously when you groaned against him again, finally prying his thighs away from the sides of your head. You traced the outline of his cloaca slowly, sensually; causing his other hand to join in on tugging your head closer to his dripping sex. You rose off of his erection with plenty of spit and precum dangling from your lips, glinting in the low light.

His fingers carded through your hair as you finally got up from between his legs, crawling on top of him and pressing a chaste kiss to his forehead. Your breath was hot on his face and he could feel the sweat dripping on his brow as he locked his legs around your waist to pull you down on top of him.

One of your hands traced little patterns up the outside of his thigh and up to his little hip dips. You kept your voice low, trying not to overwhelm him since he was already trying to force his hips up higher to grind on your own erection. "As much as I'd love to keep going like we were, I want to hear what you want to do."

He seemed to lack the ability to answer, coherent thoughts transitioning to jumbled syllables and begging the moment they moved past his lips. He finally managed to raise his hips high enough to rut on the inside of your thigh, tears slowly welling up in his eyes. He was getting overwhelmed, your scent and your touch and the things you were making him feel drowned him in an ocean of white hot flames, boiling him alive with all the sensations sending a pleasant buzz through all of his nerves.

"Hm? Dan heng?" You cooed into his ear, he took in a sharp inhale, letting out a breathy huff in response. He kept rutting up against the inside of your thigh, his dicks standing at full attention and weeping precum all over your skin. Once again, he couldn't respond, letting out little huffs and groans into your neck while he tried to chase the feeling of completion.

You used the hand that was gently caressing his thigh to push his hips back down towards the bed. Chastising him gently for not answering you, "C'mon, I can't help you if you don't tell me how I can help, sweetheart."

He could feel the hot wet trails of tears running down his face as he started crying. He sniffled pathetically as his hips struggled against the strength of your arm keeping them pinned down by the waist. His hands moved from your hair to your shoulders, trying to use them to get more leverage to try and fight against your grip. "I- I-"

"Yes?" You purred, placing a kiss to the side of his neck. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, eyelids fluttering shut as he tried to put more effort towards thinking. "What do you want from me, Heng?"

He whimpered at the mention of his name, "I don't know- I don't know-" he hiccupped, his fingernails leaving crescent marks in your shoulders, "I want to feel good, I-" a sniffle, "-touch me, please touch me agaainn..."

"Good," your murmured against his skin, "Just a little bit more, you're being so good for me," you placed a few more kisses up his neck until you met his jawline, "Where do you want me to touch you? How do you want me to touch you?"

His tail squeezed around your thigh, shaking as tried to ground himself enough to answer. He pressed his foot further into your back to bring your body down closer. He whimpered, "-Inside" his fingers trailed up to your jawline, "I- I want it inside." He held your face in his hands to make eye contact with him.

In all his teary eyed glory, you still managed to find the willpower to hold back and tease him just a little more, "What do you want inside?" He whined, roughly bringing your forehead to touch his. You pressed an innocent peck to his lips, "Last question, Heng, What do you want inside?"

He keened, chasing after your lips, almost yelling against your mouth, "YOU! I want YOU insiiihiidddeee~"

You curse against his lips, "...ah fuck," you suck a sharp breath between your teeth. You dot kisses on his face, holding him in a soft missionary. "How are you feeling, sweetheart?" You were scared to hurt him, trying to help him relax a little bit.

Dan Heng, on the other hand, was barely cognizant, eyes squeezed shut as little tears poured down the sides of his face. Was it from the pain? No, rather it was from relief.

"good, good, so good-" he babbled, arms looped around your neck as he tried to push himself backwards and further up on the pillow propped under his pelvis.

You gently stroked his hair away from his face, thumbing away the tears on his cheek. You gently pushed another couple of inches into him, causing him to let out a shaky moan. You kissed him on his sweat-caked forehead, shushing him as he cried pathetically underneath you. "You're doing so good, such a good boy, almost there, promise."

"Ahnnn~" he squirmed under the praise, drool leaking from the corner of his mouth, "deeper, please," he sniffled, "-please, deeper,"

You nodded, starting to push just a little bit in further, stopping when his tail smacked unceremoniously against your back. His back arched up against the bed in an open mouthed scream, just about seeing stars when you brushed past his prostate. He kept drooling, hiccupping and whining for you to keep going.

You finally bottomed out, ultimately noticing just the smallest bump protruding on his mid-section. His hands were scratching lines down your back, his mouth pressed shut tight and his jaw tense. Tears continued to stream down the side of his face as muffled murmurs and whimpers bounced around the inside of his taut lips.

You latched onto the side of his neck, placing a delicate kiss before starting to suck a light hickey into his pale, pale skin. He shuddered under the simple touch, a broken, humiliating purr resonating from his throat.

He sniffled again, sobbing, "P-Please, just move, I can't wait- ouhhh~"

You unlatched from his neck, kissing the just barely red skin gently before drawing your hips away from his pelvis. He let out a long drawn out moan, his voice cracking in the middle of it. You pulled until your length was about halfway out, snapping your hips forward as gently as you could.

He let out a yelp, thighs twitching and clamping down on both sides of your waist. After a small pause, you repeated the same thing, earning another broken squeak. You set the pace slower just so you knew Dan Heng wouldn't be too overwhelmed. He laid there, largely limp for a short period of time, voice cracking and tears streaming down the sides of his face.

Eventually, when he seemed to get used to the feeling, his broken moans turned into purrs and huffy groans. His hips started to rock back against yours, hands balling up and relaxing into fists behind your neck. He reached for your face, a little bit less out of it and pulled you in for a sloppy kiss.

The first thing you were met with was his teeth clacking against yours before his long forked tongue ran over your bottom lip. You teasingly nipped at his lip, earning a purr as he parted his tips more the let you take control of the kiss.

It was around then that you got a more devious idea. You played nice to begin with, feeling around the inside of his mouth with your tongue, but eventually, when his whines started to get louder, you decided it'd be the right time to push him over the edge. Cheekily, you smiled into the kiss before pressing your tongue right on top of Dan Heng's Jacobson's organ.

You only had a split second to register that you'd actually done it before Dan Heng all but screamed into your mouth and the two of you were graced with white painting both of your chests.

You rocked your hips forward slowly working him through the intensity of it. You finally bottomed out again and stilled, pulling away from his lips.

To your surprise, however, Dan Heng's fingers moved from the back of your neck to tangling themselves in your hair. He was panting, teary eyes glassy and glazed as he pushed his chest closer to yours.

His lips parted, ghosting over your own lips as he begged, "Do that again, Ouh~ Please, please do that again, mhhhh~" His hips continued to rock back against yours but they weren't getting all that far; he was basically just grinding himself on the based of your cock.

You hesitated for a moment before tentatively locking lips with him again. At his insistence, you started to move again, but shallowly and slowly. He grunted into the kiss, tugging on your hair to show his disapproval. You huffed into the kiss before almost completely pulling out before shoving your hips forward harshly. He made a choked noise, just about having the wind knocked out of him at the sudden change.

You pulled away from the kiss, feeling a little mean as you rested your head in the crook of his neck. "Wow, I didn't know you could be so greedy, Heng. You already came once and you're begging me to go harder?"

"Please- hah~ please, I feel like I'm going crazy-"

You kissed the shell of his pointed ear, drinking in the little noise you got in response before humming and catching his lips again. Maintaining about the same pace as before, you started knocking the air of him continuously with each thrust. You started toying with the forked tongue in his mouth and slyly sliding your tongue over his fangs.

He let out a drawn out moan into the kiss, pushing his face against yours harder. He tried coaxing you further into his mouth, just about begging you to inject the bundle of nerves with just about the highest concentration of your pheromones he could get.

Still, you played hard to get, wrapping your tongue in his. In your focus on him, you didn't notice your pace was picking up as you got closer to your own orgasm. Eventually, when he gave a particularly harsh tug to your hair did you finally relent.

However, while you gave into tonguing over the roof on his mouth, you also wrapped a large hand around the two painfully red cocks bouncing against both of your stomachs. He squealed into your mouth, thighs trying to squeeze shut and protect himself from the onslaught of sensations. When he finally forgot his requests for you to put your tongue on the little bump on the roof of his mouth, did you let him have his way.

His eyes snapped open, pupils rolling up into his skull as you continued to stroke him and shove your tongue into the top of his mouth. He fell limp in your arms, fingers only staying attached to your hair because they'd just about knotted themselves in your locks.

You felt the pit in your own stomach starting to get tighter, eliciting a set of groans into Dan Heng. You sped up your pace, knocking Dan Heng out of his little stupor as his hands tugged about as hard on your hair as they could without pulling out any chunks. He was back to crying while you were just about fucking him open and drinking in the noises he was screaming out into your own mouth.

Finally, you let out a finally, deep, guttural moan as you bottomed out and finally spilled your seed inside of him. His back arched and his mouth fell open in a lewd moan, tongue lolling out of his mouth as he spurted all over your stomachs again.

"yesyesyesyesyesyes-umffff~"

You panted as you shoved his face into the pillow by the neck with one hand while the other carved bruises into his hips in the shape of your fingers. It'd been a couple hours later and Dan Heng was absolutely insatiable.

You supposed you should've expected it, seeing as he's in heat and all, but you didn't expect him to have nearly enough energy to keep going for the rest of the afternoon and into the early hours of the morning. Well, it was probably easier for him to keep going than you. After all, you were the one that was actually putting in the majority of effort to keep pile driving him into the sheets.

You grunted as you pressed your chest onto his back, watching the way his tail rattled in the air in contentment. Your hips were consistently slapping against his ass, his hands clutching at the pillow you'd shoved his face into mere seconds earlier.

His happy, fucked out noises were difficult to hear from the plush, comfortable pillows, but more audible now that you were closer to his face. You pressed a handful of kisses down his spine before reaching your hand around to his front. Originally, you were going to try and stroke him through another orgasm, but instead, the hand that was formerly on his neck ghosted over the bump you were creating in his stomach. He let out a noise into the pillow that was as delectable as sin. His entire body spasming when you applied pressure onto the same point.

After a couple of hours in, his cum had thinned to the point he was just shooting blanks at this point. His cock was an angry, crimson red from the amount of times it'd actually gotten off. Just like now, his entire body tensed, but nothing actually came out.

So instead, you pressed harder on the bulge, watching in delight how his body fell limp and he stopped rocking back to meet your rough, quick thrusts forward.

It was cute for the first couple of minutes, watching him weakly moan into the pillow and claw at the sheets underneath him to try and ground himself from the heaven you were currently sending him to. But as of now, your own hips were starting to get tired. Your thighs were burning after about three hours of copulation, but you also knew the moment you stopped, Dan Heng would be alert again, demanding your attention again. Sigh, so needy.

Taking matters into your own hands, quite literally actually, you traced up his stomach before curving it around to the side and resting it on his hips. You starting tugging his hips back onto your dick, listening to the sweet mewls he let out as he turned to press only one side of his face into the pillow.

Still not quite satisfied with the amount of friction generated from using his hips as handholds, you turned your attention to the rather large solution position just a few inches away on his spine.

A devious grin broke out on your face before you ghosting your hands over the base of it, taking special satisfaction from the way his eyes widened. The next moment, your hand was wrapped around his tail and his eyes were rolling back up into his skull, low moans turning into high pitched squeals as the end of his tail rather weakly whacked against your shoulder.

Once again, you were just so close to getting to your own peak, you meanly wrapped your other hand just above the other one, sending him jolting forward towards the headboard. He finally picked his front half up from the bed sheet and clutched the top of the headboard, resting his head on it as his nails dug into the wood. You were a little concerned when you heard it start to splinter, but you dismissed it for when your thoughts were cloudy with making sure Dan Heng definitely wouldn't be able to think about anyone else during any of his following heats.

Finally, the moment came when the pooling heat in your stomach exploded and unleashed another load inside of him, prompting him to scream as just the tiniest few drops of crystalline cum shot from his angry red tip.

Once again, when you stilled to try and catch your breath to see if Dan Heng was finally satisfied, the way he looked back at you, despite the drool dripping down his chin and dried tear tracks on his cheeks, was pleading with you to keep going. He punctuated it with pushing his hips back against your softening cock again.

Horny little bastard.

During the last few rounds, Dan Heng had started becoming rather verbal. Not to be confused with vocal, he was vocal since foreplay started. No, he started talking a lot the more and more energy you were losing.

At this point, you were much too worn out to wonder why. A few flitting thoughts trailed through your head, but were quickly knocked out of you the more you snapped your hips forward and the sweet sound of Dan Heng's hoarse cries replaced them.

"Sooo fullllll~" he mewled, riding slowly. The height he was rising was getting less and less as his pace was getting slower. His voice was slowly starting to slur the longer he was on top. He held an inflated stomach with one hand, using the other shaky arm to support himself on your chest.

Soon enough though, his arm gave out on him and let himself rest his head on your chest, hips still insisting on moving, though he was barely rising. "Ghonna get pregnaannnttt~" he purred into your ear. You lazily hummed an affirmation in his ear. Eyes half-lidded in exhaustion as you watched him use the last bit of energy he had to try and reach one more orgasm.

"Ghonna have your babyyy~" he cooed, his hips finally resting on your pelvis. He moved his pelvis in little circles, what little energy he had left diminishing exponentially the longer he went on. He whined out your name when your eyes shut.

"I'm listening, Dan Heng," you affirmed, sleeping hand coming to rest on the small of his back while the other cupped his cheek.

"You have to stay with me if I have your baby~" he complained, "you can't ever leave me."

You raised an eyebrow at his words, but chalked it up to a horny dragon that was giving into his mating instincts. "Yes, Heng. I won't leave you or the baby."

There was a weak purr that emitted from his throat, his hips finally stilling flush with your own. "Would jyou make me yohur wifeee..."

You hummed into his skin, "Mhm..." you rubbed a thumb across his cheek, letting him settle into his cute little domestic dream. "My pretty wife and our baby."

You could feel a smile stretch across his face against the skin on your chest. You absentmindedly ran your fingers through his hair. His hands pressed up against your abdomen, resting there as you felt him burrow his nose right in between your pectorals. "Prhomishe?"

You twirled a piece of his hair around your finger, mumbling out a half-awake, "Promise."

With that, you could feel his breathing relax and small snores emit from his mouth. Without moving all that much, your own arm lazily grabbed at a blanket, throwing it over the both of you before letting yourself also drift off into the land of dreams.

Before that though, there really was only one thing left on your mind...

How exactly were you supposed to survive the rest of his heat if this was going to be your everyday?

there a small note on the side of the phone booth, read it?

" i fear this is the filthiest thing I've ever written and I will be doing it again soon. "

THIS IS A REPOSTED WORK FROM MY ORIGINAL ACCOUNT BEFORE IT CRAPPED AND DIED ON ME

I USED TO BE FOUND AT @steadybear

I FEAR YOU WILL HAVE TO DEAL WITH SEEING @bigtedbear INSTEAD FROM NOW ON

Part 2 here: " results: inconclusive "

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felassan · 6 months ago

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More from Game Informer: ''A Deep Dive Into Dragon Age: The Veilguard’s Combat, Abilities, Skill Tree, And More''.

The article contained new screenshots of skill trees - one for Level 30 Warrior Rook, one for Level 30 Mage Rook, one for Level 30 Rogue Rook, and one showing the 'pop up info' for the skill Wall of Fire. Going by these screenshots, the 3 specs for mage Rook are Death Caller, Evoker, and Spellblade. I think this is the first time the three specs for mages are confirmed. I wonder, is "Thorne" this Rook's custom first name, or one of the faction-defined surnames?

Text in last image reads:

"- Large circle: Class - Diamonds: Abilities - Medium circle: Major Passives and Ability Upgrades - Small hexagon: Traits - Small circle: Minor Passives and Stat Boosts"

Other excerpts from the article:

"Every single entry reimagines what combat is like and I would say our goal was to make sure we had a system that allowed players to feel like they actually were able to step into the world of Thedas. They're not a player observing from afar – they are inside of this world. Being this authentic world that's brought to life, the combat system needs to support that, so you are in control of every single action, every block, every dodge, every swing of your sword." [...] "During my demo at one point, we use a sword-and-shield Warrior Qunari that hip-fires and aims their shield to throw it like Captain America while hammering down big damage with a sword" [...] "a Mage's firewall that deals continuous damage" [...] "This extends to companions, who, at your choosing, bring three abilities (of their five total) into combat, executed either with quick select buttons or the pause-and-play combat wheel. Every time you rank up a companion's Relationship Level, you unlock a skill point to spend specifically on that companion – this is how you unlock new combat abilities. This extends to companions, who, at your choosing, bring three abilities (of their five total) into combat, executed either with quick select buttons or the pause-and-play combat wheel. Every time you rank up a companion's Relationship Level, you unlock a skill point to spend specifically on that companion – this is how you unlock new combat abilities. " [...] "Passive abilities unlock jump attacks and guarantee critical hit opportunities, while abilities add moves like firewall and spartan kicks to your arsenal" [...] "Busche says BioWare's philosophy with the skill tree is "about changing the way you play, not the statistical minutiae."

"If you completely ignore companions in combat, they will attack targets, use abilities, and defeat enemies all on their own. "[Companions] are their own people, "Busche says. "They have their own behaviors, they have their own autonomy on the battlefield, they'll pick their own targets. As their plots progress, they'll learn how to use their abilities more competently, and it really feels like you're fighting alongside these realized characters in battle."" [...] "Busche says there are more explicit synergies, with intentional combos where specific companions can play off each other, and you can queue up their abilities to do just that."

"Busche utilizes Veilguard's dual-loadout mechanic. As Rook, you can create two weapon loadouts for quick switch-ups mid-combat. As a mage Rook, she uses magical attacks to add three stacks of arcane build-up to make an Arcane Bomb on a Sentinel, a mechanical set of armor possessed by a demon. If you hit the Sentinel's Arcane Bomb with a heavy attack, the enemy will take devastating damage. Once the Sentinel has an Arcane Bomb on it, Busche begins charging a heavy attack on her magical staff, then switches to magical daggers in Rook's second loadout, accessed with a quick tap of down on the d-pad to unleash some quick light attacks, then back to the staff to finish charging its attack. She then unleashes the heavy attack, and the Arcane Bomb explodes in a liquidy whirl of green magic."

""I've seen [Veilguard's combat] refined over time [and] I love it," BioWare general manager Gary McKay tells me. "I love that balance of real-time fluid action, but also the ability to have the depth in the RPG, not just in terms of pause-and-play, but the depth in terms of how you bring your companions into the battlefield. What are you going to do with their skill points? What's the loadout you're going to use? Everything is about bringing Rook to the center of the battlefield, and I love it." Former Dragon Age executive producer and Veilguard consultant Mark Darrah feels Veilguard is the first game where the combat is legitimately fun. "What I see in Veilguard is a game that finally bridges the gap," he says. "Uncharitably, previous Dragon Age games got to the realm of 'combat wasn't too bad.' In this game, the combat's actually fun, but it does keep that thread that's always been there. You have the focus on Rook, on your character, but still have that control and character coming into the combat experience from the other people in your party." I get the sense from watching Busche play several hours of Veilguard that BioWare has designed a combat system that relies heavily on players extracting what they want out of it. If you want to button mash and use abilities freely when their cooldowns expire, you can probably progress fine (although on the game's easier difficulties). But if you want to strategize your combos, take advantage of elemental vulnerabilities, and min-max companions and Rook loadouts, you can do that, too, and I think you'll find Veilguard rewards that with a more enriching experience."

[source]

#dragon age: the veilguard #dragon age: dreadwolf #dragon age 4 #the dread wolf rises #da4 #dragon age #bioware #video games #long post #longpost

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digi-lov · 11 days ago

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ShineGreymon: Ruin Mode EX4-074 Alternative Art by toriyufu from Digimon Card Game Special Limited Set [E] / LM-04: Limited Card Set Torrid Weiss

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vivalabunbun · 1 year ago

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When It Rains, Why Does It Pour?

Summary: Sand is quite a nuisance, it creeps into every crevice and no amount of dusting can free oneself from its stubborn hold. Yet, the tide still greets the shore.

Word Count: 8.8k (oh no...)

Tags: Neuvillette x GN!Reader, human!reader, SFW, fluff, childhood friends AU, Slow Burn, Slow Fic, Angst, Hurt with Comfort, themes about reincarnation, TW: Themes about death and loss, themes about aging, immortal x mortal AU, not lore accurate, reader is an attendant, human prejudice, Spoilers Warning: His story quest and archon quests, speculations about his past in Fontaine, why is he so mysterious

Authors Note: This was a challenge trying to write from the POV of a man you don't even know the name of, but I just had to write something for him. A character study of Neuvillette. Enjoy!

How long has it been since he first arrived here? One month? Two? Or perhaps it has already been a year? The young dragon wasn’t too sure.

The days seem to blend together when one only eats, studies, and sleeps all on repeat. A cruel trait of time. The weather outside the glass windows didn’t provide any hints either.

However, he himself is to blame.

A gray haze concealed azure skies as rhythmic drops of rain hit the earth. Blocking out the all-seeing sun and nurturing moon, the murky clouds above even hinder the stars from accompanying him.

A true reflection of his current solitude.

The young dragon arrived in the human world, brought over by the lord of Fontaine. Due to the nature of his arrival to this nation, he was given status and importance in the eyes of the citizens. However, he has yet to receive acceptance.

The grand estate in which he resides was staffed with countless butlers and maids, renowned chefs, and skilled tutors. He was wanting of nothing, yet still impoverished.

He could see it in their mortal eyes, he could sense it in the tangible silence of the halls, he could tell from the distance each mortal put between themselves and him.

Much like the towering stone walls which surrounded his private residence.

Was it to separate themselves from him or himself from them?

A question he entertains as lilac eyes scan over the aforementioned wall. Its gray stones are a welcomed change from the dry parchment with even drier content.

As he observes the drab stones contrast against a dreary sky, a small flash of white cuts through the somber composition.

Catching his lilac eyes as they follow the strange shape, it drifts through the capricious wind before the breeze grew bored and tossed it to the ground.

Studying it a bit further, the young dragon identifies the object as a simple pillowcase. Nothing more than a scrap of fabric.

He reasons that the wind must’ve stolen it from some clothesline. Just when he was about to return to the legal ledgers a rustling came from the bushes lining the bottom of the wall.

A small frame pushes apart the thick vegetation, creating enough space to finally free themselves from the entangled mess of branches.

The towering wall, the one meant to separate him from the mortals, was defeated by a mere child.

A child who’s clumsy brushing the twigs from their garments and shaking a few raindrops from their hair. He watches as the small human trots toward the discarded pillowcase, a pout forming on their lips as they observe the mud that had seeped into the silk.

Judging by the simple attire they don, they must be the child of a maid.

Ah humans, fickle and temperamental creatures created by the usurpers. It took a conscious effort on his part to stop the frown threatening to appear on his lips.

Seems like he still needs to get used to their presence.

It was as if the child sensed the bitterness in his thoughts because soon a pair of wide eyes connected with lilac. Even with the sun hiding behind dreary clouds, there was a light that twinkled in their irises.

It was only for a minute, no, even less than that. But a young dragon and a young human held each other’s gaze.

The child’s shoulders jolt as they turn their head back toward the wall, as if a voice called for them. Casting one last glance toward the young dragon, the child trots back toward the wall, disappearing within the murky viridescent.

And that was the end, like the breeze that littered a scrap of fabric among the grass, the small human came and went.

Such fickle creatures, the young dragon gives it one last thought before returning his attention back to a cluttered desk.

–

Amongst the soft drumming of droplets came a tap against the glass too sharp to be caused by the gentle rain. Causing the young dragon to turn away from the stacks of books laid out before him.

The wet glass obscured a small flicker of an orange glow, thus he walked closer to investigate. With each step, the figure outside the window became undeciphered.

That small human again.

Locking eyes with the human outside the glass, the fickle creature’s lips curl up, the glow of their lamp illuminating the curiosity behind their gaze.

A human child doesn’t have the potential to cause much if any harm to him. Thus, he releases the lock, removing the glass barrier separating two breathes.

“Hello! What is uh… your name?” They chirp out.

His sharp ears picked up the clumsiness in their speech, the subtle unfamiliarity of the words they spoke. Distinct signs that you were still learning the language of Fontaine, much like him.

Although he understood your question, he was too distracted to answer. Lilac eyes wandering off toward the stone wall. Within the entangled mess of twigs, there was a small parting.

A part just wide enough to reveal the secret the bushes desperately tried to hide: A small hole along the bottom of the stone barrier. Just enough for a small creature to slip through.

Discovering the truth behind how a small human was able to defeat such a seemingly impenetrable wall.

The pattering of the rain was interrupted by the rustling of fabric, drawing his attention back to the small human in front of him.

The child rummages through their pockets before pulling out a lump covered by a handkerchief. Peeling back the layer of fabric to reveal some conch madeleines, presenting fragmented sweets before the young dragon.

“It tastes good, I promise.” A small hand extends itself further through the open window.

Observing the crumbly sweets laid out upon a handkerchief, the young dragon halted the rejection that almost escaped his lips. Remembering the concepts he had just been reading before this.

Humans tend to follow a set of unwritten rules, principles they like to call ‘manners’. There weren’t any punishments issued by law if those rules were broken, no imprisonment or fines.

However, narrow-eye stares and whispers behind backs were the punishments issued to transgressors by society.

So, he accepts a piece, trying to ignore the sand-like sensation against his tongue. As he chewed, the grin on the human’s face only got wider.

“Now that you’ve taken one, you have to give me your name, it’s only uh… fair!”

Ah, it looks like he’s been tricked. Falling into the clumsy sugar-coated trap only a child could come up with. Yet, as his lilac gaze caught the twinkle still ever so bright in their eyes, he didn’t have the strength to form a frown.

Just a curious human child, only as dangerous as a firefly buzzing in his ear. There shouldn’t be any harm in disclosing the surname bestowed upon him by this nation.

“Neuvillette.” He finally said his first words to you.

A peculiar pattern is recurring. That rainy night when Neuvillette opened those windows, it looked like he welcomed a phenomenon in as well.

Even in his current state, a small human like you could pose no possible threat to him. Thus, whenever a certain tap was placed against the glass. He saw no reason to turn away the visitor. Allowing you to climb in through his window time and time again.

It would’ve been better if you used the door. However, he’s aware of the complications such a request would bring.

Perhaps it’s because he’s currently in the form of a young child, sharing a similar stature to yours. From his observations, humans do have a tendency to gravitate toward those with similar traits. Or perhaps, you’re just exceptionally brazen.

Neuvillette glances up from his book, thick with endless sentences describing obscure and frivolous laws, landing on your frame lazing around upon a rug.

One hand holds onto a collection of fables, pages illuminated by the gentle rays of a star. While the other periodically reaches out toward a pile of conch madeleine.

A sight he’s come to expect now.

Lavender eyes follow your hand as it brings another one of the crumbly sweets to your mouth again. You brought them over under the pretense of sharing them with him, yet they’re already half gone. The only hand reaching for the sweets being yours.

Just like how it was last time, and the time before that, and the one before that as well.

If you felt this complacent in his presence now, then perhaps he can be more candid with you. As is common practice among humans to present a polite front that gradually wears away each recurring meeting.

“You do not have to bring over any more conch madeleine.”

The moment those words left his lips the motion of your hand halted, looking up to connect your sight with his, confusion pinching together your brows.

“Oh? Why so suddenly?” The collection of fables now resting on the rug.

It’s already been done, the first ripple in the frangible water between you and him. There is nothing that can cease the waves that accompany the first breach. He might as well say the whole truth.

“They are dry, I cannot fathom how you can bring yourself to eat them.” Prescriptive eyes caught a faint flinch as you processed his edict.

“They taste fine to me…” You mutter, picking another one up.

This time you chewed slower. The pinch between your brow only grew as you tasted the sweet again, searching for the perceived flaw.

As you met his gaze once more, he could tell your search brought forth no fruitful conclusions. Thus you asked another question in response.

“Then what do you like?”

Besides the pleasantries commonly exchanged between humans in Fontaine, Neuvillette recognizes he lacks the talent for small talk.

The room usually filled with your grievances about whichever tedious task you were assigned before you slipped away behind a wall and into his private residence. Ambient noise which accompanied each flip of a law book.

It is long overdue for him to pull his weight in a conversation.

“Water, spring water.”

“Huh?”

Neuvillette repeats his sentence but the scrunch of your brows doesn’t ease up, he couldn’t fight the urge to draw in a deep breath. So this is the limitation of the human palate, how regrettable.

“Perhaps you are still too simple to appreciate the qualities of water.”

The pout upon your crumb-covered lips morphs into a tight line, sealing away your voice. The brightly printed cover of a storybook was shut as the last few remaining treats were bundled away in a napkin.

Your tea break ended early today, impassive eyes following your figure as it disappeared among the thick vegetation beside a stone barrier.

It was quiet today, not even a single parting uttered past your sealed lips. Therefore leaving the conversation unfinished.

But that is today, you’ll have another tea break tomorrow, and you’ll come to him with your grievances about chores tomorrow as well.

The young dragon returns his focus to the text in front of him.

–

The soft hymn of raindrops against a glass window reverbed through the solitary study, providing a melody for the periodic flips of paper. But the melody was hollow, incomplete.

Shifting his body to look behind himself at the vacant rug, Neuvillette deduces why. The accompaniment was missing.

That tomorrow he had come to expect never came.

Had he committed a transgression? Overstep a line outside his place? Food is a point of pride for many humans, one oddity he’s yet to grasp.

These temperamental creatures tend to lash out when their pride is wounded, much like how a beast reacts to an unhealed cut.

Neuvillette was curious as to whether this was an inherent trait of humanity or a learned by-product of the fickle principles imposed on themselves.

However, observing the abandoned storybook tucked away, the young dragon is leaning towards the former.

Turning back to face his desk, his eyes could only glaze over the monotonous scribbles. Perhaps the cause of his spiritless attitude was disappointment, disappointment in himself.

It looks like he was careless, deluding himself with the misconception that you and him were alike. Two outsiders who found solace in each other’s presence.

However, this was false. You were an outsider to Fontaine, but he was an outsider to this world where humans walked.

He’s still too naive.

Fickle and temperamental creatures spoiled by the usurpers at the expense of his ancestors.

Why did he even entertain the thought that you and him could ever be alike?

Something stirred from within, like when pebbles were thrown into still water, but what were those pebbles? As Neuvillette ponders this conundrum, the drumming of the rain grows louder.

However, it wasn’t loud enough to swallow up the sharp set of taps which interrupted his somber reflection. Jolting him from his thoughts, snapping his attention to the source of the noise.

There stood a figure distorted by the wet glass as another set of sharp taps sounded through the room.

Before Neuvillette could even process it, his body moved without his command. Unlatching the lock and setting the window free from its frame.

Not sparing another second to the raindrops soaking into their cloak, the figure clambers through the window with practiced proficiency.

Without uttering a single greeting, not even one pleasantry, you situated yourself on his floor. Melting into an undignified lump on the pristine tiles as bewildered eyes watched you.

After catching a few breaths, an explanation finally makes its way to his ears.

“T-they… they patched… up the hole,” you huffed out between short breaths.

Ah, the small cavity in the stone wall that you used to escape from chores. Looks like the security at the estate finally noticed.

Gauging the height of the wall from his place by the window, he’s aware of how it towers over both him and you the same.

This brings up another question as he returns to observe your frame, still trying to catch the breaths that evade you.

“I… ran… through the gates… before the… Gardes noticed…” Exhaustion evident in your eyes as pants break up your sentence.

Ah, looks like his question was answered before he even inquired. To be puzzled or amazed, he wasn’t too sure how to categorize this ripple inside him.

The tomorrow that’s been missing for a little more than two weeks, is now right in front of him.

Panting and leaving a few muddy traces along the marble floor, but here nonetheless.

With one deep motion of your lungs, you pushed your body up, finally getting ahold of your breath. The familiar rustle of your pocket, the audio cue for a certain dry sweet to appear. Neuvillette didn’t mind in the least.

Perhaps, he can bear the sandy sensation just for today. But tomorrow is always filled up with surprises, a glass bottle finding its way out of your pocket instead of sugary treats.

“What is that?” An obvious question, but his voice found its way out of his mouth.

“Water, water from the servant’s well, I bottled it myself.” A small hand holds the bottle out more.

“Thank you,” Neuvillette accepts it into his hands.

He should really acquire some glasses to pour the water out into, it’s improper and bad manners to drink from the bottle.

However, his curiosity was greater. Or maybe, he didn’t realize just how parched he had become from waiting for tomorrow.

Uncapping the clumsily packaged water, he takes a generous sip.

“It’s sweet.” His tongue picking up on a subtle saccharine undertone.

“Really?” Your hand reaches up as that familiar shine illuminates your eyes.

Taking a sip from the bottle passed back into your grasp, your brows furrowing in concentration. Another sip was taken from the bottle as you continued to search for the sweetness in the water you’ve always drank.

A sight that tugged up at the lips of a boy still studying the shape of your quirked brows.

Humans, fickle, perplexing, yet astoundingly curious creatures from the very beginning.

If he is to walk amongst the human world, then it’s best for him to be equally curious. To try and search for the harmony between two different breaths.

A child of a maid far from their homeland. A status too insignificant to warrant the attention of Fontaine's factions, freeing you from their prying eyes and entanglements.

Therefore, it should be alright for him to continue observing you, no?

“Ahh… The rain is so unpredictable here in Fontaine, trying to hang out the wash here is always a gamble.” You sink further into the plush cushions of his settee.

As the sun rose and fell, as the leaves grew green then gold, as the ground froze and thawed.

One thing remained unchanged throughout these cycles even as they repeated: your grievances over chores.

The frequency of these complaints reaching his ears has increased, on the part that you now took over more of your mother’s responsibilities in managing the laundry of this estate.

Besides your habitual complaints of the weather, one detail didn’t escape Neuvillette’s hearing: your proficiency in the Fontainian language has increased significantly.

Words no longer spoken clumsily or with unfamiliarity. Accent nearly indistinguishable from a native speaker.

“The people here are fond of creating strange machinery, why can’t they make something to dry clothes?” You resume.

The quill in his hand stops as he pauses in the middle of a sentence, glancing over his shoulder toward your slouching figure making yourself comfortable in the sofa that’s more familiar with your shape than his.

“Perhaps you should be the one to create it, studying might do you some good as well,” came his curt response.

His candid advice makes you sink further into the cushions with a groan.

“I’d rather travel than study those jumbled-up books about machinery or whatever, in fact, I want to visit my homeland as soon as I can,” you grumble aloud.

Ah, that’s right, you’re approaching the age where you could travel freely.

By law, you won’t be bound to the side of your mother, not needing any permission to come to and fro however you wish. No longer kept at this estate washing and folding sheets.

Indeed, you and him found yourselves in similar situations: on the cusp of freedom from this estate.

While he was deep in thought, you filled the silence left behind by posing a question to him.

“Do you plan on visiting your homeland anytime soon, Neuvi?”

By now, the young dragon had stopped expending the effort to try and correct you in your butchering of his surname. Your reason being ‘it’s too long’.

Alongside you, he has grown in stature as well, elapsing you some time ago much to your dismay. If he wished to travel, not much would pose a problem to the young dragon.

However… where could he return to? A homeland… was there a section of his homeland untouched by the usurpers? If he were to go, would he ever want to return to this world?

Sensing the change in the air, dreary clouds blocking the sun’s rays from your skin, you were perceptive enough to ramble about a different matter.

Namely, how the chef of the estate recently changed the type of flour used in the kitchens, resulting in pastries and sweets that were less airy but more flavorful.

Explaining to him the subtle improvements and deterioration in the quality of some baked goods. Filling the air of the study with bright-eyed ramblings until rays of light peek out from waning clouds.

–

“Monsieur Neuvillette! It’s been a while since you’ve visited!” Soft patters of skipping steps made their way to the tall man.

Tilting his sights down, Neuvillette greets the cheery melusine with a gentle smile which she returned with an equally bright grin.

While on a routine stroll along the riverbanks to stretch his legs after a long day, he found himself at the entrance of Merusea Village.

He wonders if it's his body’s natural response to get away from the Palais Mermonia and Opera Epiclese.

Carrying him toward the direction of a secluded reprieve he discovered far away from the suspicious eyes of weary humans.

Condemnatory eyes were constantly pinned to the back of the young dragon who had recently emerged from a sheltered estate to sit in the grand seat of a Chief Justice.

Days filled with nothing but a cacophony of voices echoing off the opera house walls. Screams from the accused and the eager murmurs of spectators blended into nothing more than a chaotic din in his ears.

Gazing deeper into the small lake, the unsuspecting entrance to a hidden haven that the Melusines called home.

It would only take a moment, just one dip into the pristine water for him to disappear from the clamorous mortal realm.

Abandoning the overly grand seat of his post as easily as it would take for his head to vanish under the tranquil tide.

How great would it be to exist in the presence of creatures who could resonate with his own adriftness?

Maybe, he could finally discover the purpose of his current form and longevity in their company. Yes, that sounds about right.

Just as the water wet the tip of his overly ornate shoe, all motion his body stills at a familiar call.

“NEUVI!” Came a voice from just over the beaten path.

Soon your silhouette follows the echo of your call, steps hurried yet worn.

When the young dragon departed from his temporary estate and into the Palais Mermonia, a certain specter followed him as well.

The same specter who’s currently huffing to catch their breath after such a rush. Trying to gather enough air to form their next sentence.

“There you are! The grand tailor sent me to fetch you because you’re almost an hour late to the fitting of your new robe, they need to make sure the measurements are correct,” you chide.

The exasperation of your words was most definitely caused by the fact you had to physically exert yourself in your search for the wandering Chief Justice. Evident by the pout on your lips and scrunched nose.

His attention was quickly torn away from your recuperating figure by a faint tug of his slacks.

The Melusine had hidden herself behind his legs, creating a barrier between her and the strange mortal who seemingly appeared from the blue.

Her sudden movement caught your attention as well.

Ah, that’s right. The Melusines have yet to be acquainted with humans, and humans with Melusines.

Two different species, two different breaths, and two different sets of eyes that can’t seem to see directly into each other.

If his time within the wall of the estate and Palais Mermonia had proven anything, it would be the natural adversity humans had to differences.

Neuvillete certainly wasn’t prepared for such an event, nor was he sure how to handle it.

In the midst of his inaction, your hand reached into your pocket, fumbling around before pulling out a handkerchief-covered lump.

Despite the soreness in your legs, you lowered your body until you were at eye level with the shorter Melusine.

“Hello there, would you like some conch madeleines?” Unraveling the fabric to reveal the sweets which you seem to have an abundant supply of.

The grip on his slacks tightened as she glanced up at him, lilac eyes catching the hesitance in her irises. Neuvillette gives a subtle nod, giving just enough reassurance for the small creature to release his pant leg.

Reaching a mitten-like hand toward the golden sweets, it only took one bite for the hesitance in her eyes to be replaced by a bright twinkle.

“It’s tasty isn’t it?” Your lips formed a wider grin.

The Melusine responds with an eager nod, too occupied with bringing more of the buttery treat into her mouth.

At the sight of her restless chewing covering her cheeks with faint crumbs, you let out a giggle.

“I’ll give you the rest of the sweets if you tell me your name,” you offered.

After a few moments of the Melusine finishing her previous bite, she falls for the same trap he had many years ago.

“My name is Carole!” She chirps.

“What a wonderful name.” Your gaze softened further as you held out the treats, keeping your promise.

As Carole reaches for more, she glances back up. Wide eyes twinkling as she inquires him with the one thought currently on her mind.

“Monsieur Neuvillette, does the human world have more treats as delicious as these?”

Ah, it looks like the stroll Neuvillette took today to relieve himself of mounting troubles only led him to more.

The skies over the Court of Fontaine have been in a pensive stalemate, all too familiar clouds blocking azure hues. However, rain has yet to patter on the ground, as if the weather was unsure of itself.

A feeling shared by the Chief Justice currently sitting at his desk, reviewing the details of the day’s trials. Albeit, half heartily.

Much like the skies crowded with clouds, in the solitude of his office, his mind rang loud with thoughts. Neuvillette only had himself to blame for the current silence of his office, it’s been this way for around a week going on two now.

Lilac eyes peered over the tops of the papers toward the shut doors, concealing him away. There hasn’t been a knock on those doors for some time now, due to the diligent Melusines who followed his request.

Turning away potential visitors with crafted excuses of ‘The Chief Justice is handling a very important case’ or ‘My apologies, but the Chief Justice is very busy’.

Neuvillette recognizes that he’s currently no different than a child hiding away from the consequences of a broken vase.

How childish, he chides himself as he returns back to his responsibilities. How would the citizens of Fontaine react to their Chief Justice conducting himself in such a manner?

He’s sure if Lady Furina were to catch wind of his behavior, she’d be greatly entertained.

As if the mere mention of the nation’s archon presented a bad omen, the sturdy doors of his office swung open, revealing the face of a familiar visitor who’s been turned away one too many times.

“My my, it’s been quite some time since I’ve seen the inside of this office, I almost forgot what it looks like,” you remark as your eyes hone in on him.

The child’s hiding place under the bed has been exposed.

“Good afternoon, I was not made aware you had any appointments with me.” Neuvillette’s own eyes trail past yours.

From behind the door frames the figures of two Melusines quickly dodged away from his sight. A silent admission of guilt on their part, and Neuvillette didn’t have to look hard to deduce the crime they’ve committed: Accepting bribes.

The evidence was right there in the form of buttery crumbs left on the corner of their mouths. Ah, you and with those conch madeleines of yours.

It’d be best for him to finally handle the situation at hand, one he’s been trying to maneuver out of.

“If I recall correctly, you were granted a vacation, why not take this chance to travel? It certainly is a prime opportunity-”

“Why have you been avoiding me, Monsieur?” you cut through the long-winded pleasantries and excuses.

His lips press together, by now he’s well accustomed to your brazenness. However, the absence of a familiar name only said in your voice made the guilt weigh heavier on his shoulders.

Guilt which originated a few weeks prior.

—

On a secluded riverbank, a routine walk under clear skies was halted. You were knelt down on the ground, uncaring of the sand sticking to the fabric of your clothes, as you held a Melusine between your arms. Two mittened hands clung to you as she soaked your shoulder with tears.

“W-why? Why did he have to go?” Her sobs interrupted by sudden hiccups.

As you rubbed circles into her back, something he saw humans do to soothe their crying young, Neuvillette watched from the side. Much like how he would observe those performances within the Opera Epiclese.

Liath is her name, a diligent Melusine who patrolled the grounds of the Palais Mermonia. By her side, there would be a guard poodle who’d matched her skips with his prances. An inseparable duo, or it’d be more accurate to say, they were once an inseparable duo.

Dogs are a species domesticated by humans, some might argue that they were created by humanity through generations of selection. So it stands to reason that they too would have a limited lifespan.

In fact, they have a lifespan even more restricted than that of the mortals who tamed them.

The Melusines have just begun walking amongst humans, there were still many aspects their sheltered minds have yet to grasp. The fleetingness of mortality is one of them.

Thus, Neuvillette did his best to caution them.

However, just like how laws can’t completely stop crimes, his words can’t completely prevent such tragedies. All he could do was try.

“I’m sorry for your grief, this was the very reason why I cautioned you against getting too attached to him… A dog’s life is brief-”

“Monsieur Neuvillette.”

The sentence died at the tip of his tongue as his eyes met yours. Gaze narrowed and brows furrowed, not even the Chief Justice dared to interject any further.

After you silenced him, your focus returned back to the grieving Melusine.

Slowly standing back up from the ground, her frame cradled in your arms as her sobs continued.

“I know it hurts,” you whispered, one hand patting her back, setting a steady rhythm reminding her to breathe.

“B-but why? W-why is it so sad?” she hiccuped.

You hummed, beginning to bounce her a bit within your hold.

“Wouldn’t it be sadder if you never met him?”

At your question, the Melusine stares at you through teary eyes. Expression lined with confusion.

“To have loved him, and for him to have loved you in return…isn’t that enough?” You cooed, taking steps away from the riverbank.

Still frozen in his place, the dragon could only stare at your back as it grew further and further away, soon disappearing from his view.

He had misspoke.

Neuvillette recalled last Autumn. As the vivid hues of the foliage shriveled up to nothing more than a shadow of their former beauty, you laid your mother to rest. Burying her in a cemetery which overlooked the direction of your homeland.

His unsolicited reprimand must have been throwing salt into a wound that still bled. He had overstepped his authority.

Murky clouds congregated in the once clear sky.

—

Those were the events that transpired, events that have led to the current stalemate happening in his office. Lilac eyes couldn’t seem to find the courage to connect with yours. Another excuse finding its way to his tongue.

“Didn’t you want to visit your homeland?”

“Oh?” Your brow quirks up, as your hands find their way to your hips.

“And then who’d be here to repair the tears in your robe when you inevitably step on them?” Obviously unimpressed by his suggestion.

“Surely there are other talented tailors here that can handle the task,” he rebukes.

“Oh? Will they also untangle your hair from the ornamentation of chairs?” You press on.

“I can manage.”

“Then can the Chief Justice also manage all the uniforms for the Melusines? Can he sew every button and ensure they fit correctly?”

Ah, with your last statement, Neuvillette concedes. A hush fills the room.

The Melusines are still new to walking amongst humans, not many were willing to tailor specialized uniforms for their short stature. Thus, you took up the mantle.

Perhaps out of a sense of responsibility, it was you who stirred their curiosity with those sweets of yours.

It seems responsibilities tethered you to the Court of Fontaine, much like they did to him. After a few breaths, as always, your voice shatters the stalemate.

“I’m not upset, Neuvi.”

With those words, his lilac eyes finally connect with yours. Finally able to see the soft curls at the corners of your lips.

It indeed has been a while since he last saw such a sight.

This time instead of replying with an excuse, he responds with a gentle hum.

“Ugh, why are your curtains so dusty? When was the last time you went outside?” It wasn’t long before your attention returned to the state of his office.

Strolling past his desk, your hands began to fuss with the thick drapes. Pouting at the dust that coated the lush fabrics.

All Neuvillette could do was follow with his gaze, papers long pushed to the side as for the first time in a while, an azure hue was seen peeking through the clouds.

From his observations, it’s instinctive for humans to avoid pain. However, it’d be hypocritical of him to judge mortals for actions he’s been guilty of.

“If I knew I had to work this hard now, I would’ve skipped more chores back at the estate,” you chuckle, pulling back the drapes to allow gold to illuminate his office.

To have loved and have been loved in return.

Was this the human rationale behind taming a dog? Having the reality of the future constantly lurking over each happy moment as the hands of time tick forward.

Why do humans dote on pets? Creatures that only live a fraction of a mortal life?

Are happy memories a fair exchange for bitter grief, or are they the cure?

As Neuvillette counts the strands of peeking silver that mingle within your lush locks, he prays he finds the answer soon.

The clacks of ornate shoes reverberate down once unfamiliar halls, a towering figure lurks past bustling nurses who bow their heads at the sight of the Chief Justice as he passes by.

With a body like his, there is no reason for him to wander among these halls. Or more accurately, there once was no reason.

The taps of his soles slowed as a familiar door came into view, the only detail which differentiated it from the rest of the hall being the brass numbers displayed. Bringing up a glove-clothed knuckle, delicate taps were placed against the wood.

Almost immediately, a muffled ‘come in’ resounded behind the frame. Granting the Iudex permission to turn the polished knob, allowing him entry as the hinges sang their welcome.

“My, my, if it isn’t Monsieur Neuvillette, to whom do I owe the pleasure?” A grin spreads across your face, crinkling the corners of your eyes.

Instantly his frame stiffens in the midst of returning the door to its frame. Bringing his free hand up to his face, Neuvillette coughs as to compose himself once more.

“Please, forgo the formalities.”

Though your eyes might not be as sharp as they once were, the delicate dusting of pink along his pointed ears couldn’t escape their sight. Making your eyes crinkle more.

Feeling entertained enough, you cease your teasing and gesture toward the vacant chair beside your bed.

Obediently, his towering figure strides up to the seat, the wood squeaking under his weight as he settles onto it.

By now, the dragon has grown accustomed the structure of greetings, beginning with a layer of pleasantries.

“How have you been fairing?” Lavender eyes scrutinize the sheets and pillows, searching for any unapparent flaws.

“It’s just a mild case of pneumonia,” you muse aloud.

Momentarily resting his eyes behind a slow blink, all he could do was sigh at your brazen nonchalantness. Yet with a ghost of a smile on the same lips that sighed.

It was a mild case of pneumonia, a common ailment during the frosty months. For someone as steadfast as you, such an illness might’ve surrendered to your stubbornness.

It might've surrendered… if your body had remained as it once was.

How unfortunate it all is, that time is so cruel to mortal creatures.

Attentive eyes detailing each crease that settled by your lips, remnants of the many grins and laughs that stretched your face.

The basking light of a selfish star catches in your hair, lush hues that have faded to brilliant ivory. A shade that you often compare to his while jesting, ‘We match now’.

However, Neuvillette begs to differ, the sunlight is much more luminous in your tresses.

Trailing his sights back to your gaze. Deep lines formed by countless dynamic expressions drew attention to the glimmer forever present in your irises. Like paths on a map that led lilac eyes to yours.

“How are you finding your stay?” At times, Neuvillette found himself wondering how the azure tides appeared from your view.

“Mm, quite uneventful, eating, staring out a window, sleeping.”

He hums in response, contemplating if he should inquire you about such subjects. As you ramble, perhaps the dragon could grasp onto an inkling of understanding.

“Well, at least I can say that my stay has been anything but lonely.” Your eyes motioning toward a corner.

The bland, sterile wall overshadowed by a mass comprised of trinkets ranging from local flowers to any object whose surface catches light.

The heap grows day by day as each Melusine continues to bring their earnest gratitude to the human who sew each stitch of their coats. A sight that could stir even the most placid lake.

“They’re such sweethearts.” Each one of your words coated with endearment.

Once more, all the dragon could respond with was a mellow hum. Slow breaths fill the complacent silence between two species, one blessed by time and one shunned by it.

Neuvillette has grown accustomed to the structure of conversations but, alas, he still has no talent for small talk.

In the absence of dialogue, the layer of short pleasantries long dissolving, Neuvillette is left with nothing but his inquiries. It was all he had left, and so it was all he could offer.

“Are there any regrets you hold?”

“Oh oh? Getting sentimental so out of the blue, Neuvi?” A familiar quirk graces your brow.

“It’s nothing of the sort, just a musing that drifted in my mind during a stroll, I wish to know your thoughts on the matter.”

“Mmm… I don’t feel that I have any regrets, living an honest life and having the fortune to never have stepped foot in the Fortress of Meropide.”

“Is that really all? You never did get to travel like you dreamed of back at the estate.”

“Haha, trying to stump me with that, Neuvi?” you chuckle.

Relaxing more into the pillows which propped up your weary frame, you trail your sights toward the window.

“Didn’t I tell you already? I’ll have plenty of time to travel once I become a cloud, I can go everywhere the sky can reach.” Smile softening on your lips.

Neuvillette’s folded hands grasp one another tighter on his lap, his own lips pressing each other into a thin line.

The conversation was teetering closer and closer to the unspoken reality looming like a shadow in the room.

He wasn’t sure when it started, maybe when the first silver strands appeared in your hair or when you discovered his skin won’t wrinkle along with you.

He wasn’t sure when your adamant belief of becoming a cloud once the shadow came to claim you started.

Neuvillette wonders if this daydream was the product of those fables you browsed when you laid upon a plush rug.

Or was it your personally crafted fable to explain the incomprehensible to a creature who couldn’t fully grasp it?

A creature whose skin didn’t wrinkle, whose bones didn’t grow brittle. A creature seemingly untouched by time.

Fairytales do serve this purpose for children, magical fantasies to make uncomfortable realities palatable to naive minds.

“...vi?... Ne…?... Neuvi.”

A hand marred with age takes hold of one glove-clad hand, and a pleasant heat radiates through the leather. Coaxing Neuvillette’s attention back from its escapade.

“My apologies, I was lost in thought for a moment.” He gives your hand a reassuring squeeze.

But the frown weighing down on your lips didn’t disappear, much like how retreating into musings couldn’t wash away any shadows.

Your chest moves with a deep inhale.

“Maybe I do have one regret,” you began.

Readjusting your ailing fingers in his hold so that he could hold them with equal endearment, his ears concentrate on your voice.

“Actually, I have many,” you sigh.

Before he could formulate a response, you continued.

“I wish I could have shoulder the burdens you carry. I wish you would’ve shared them with me. And I wish I could even understand them, then maybe I could have understood you more.” Turning to face him, your disheartened eyes center on his frame.

A child born from a maid, a maid who traveled to Fontaine in hopes of a better future for her child. That was your origin, an outsider with neither fame nor fortune.

Thus, even as you followed him from a secluded estate to the grand Palais Mermonia, you could never follow him in status nor influence.

As unrest grew, as injustices mounted, and as tragedies took away friends.

All you could do was repair tears, sew buttons, and pour him a crisp glass of spring water as you waited for the storm to wash despair away.

That was how you saw it. But Neuvillette rebukes that notion.

The dignity of a newly established Chief Justice, who kept stepping on his overly ornate robes, was carefully maintained by you.

The Melusine’s uniforms, which solidified their presence in the human world, were crafted by you.

The patient hand that always offered silent comfort in the suffocating courts was yours.

Standing by his side, even as your bones grew to ache, to ensure the storm would pass and the sun emerge once more.

“You’ve done more than enough.” He states the truth, grasping your hand just a bit tighter.

“Are you sure?” Those airy chuckles of yours made their appearance again.

“I never even learned your real name,” you interject.

A knife, red hot and fresh from the forge, would have hurt less than the guilt which tore through him at that moment.

The Chief Justice, the symbol of honesty and conviction, is unable to tell the simplest truth.

What shall he do now?

The power of a name is often underestimated, the exchanging of names signifying the forging of a bond. One that would forever tether him to you and you to him.

Oh, what shall he do now?

Before his hesitant lips could take action, they were halted by a squeeze from your ailing grasp. Firm and warm, like a light that guides him up from the bottom of a turbulent ocean.

“You don’t have to tell me now, Neuvi, tell me when I come back from my trip.” Those gentle eyes of yours smile at him.

Reeling his hand in closer to you with your own, until the softness of your lips was felt along covered knuckles.

A common practice in Fontaine, one Neuvillette had witnessed time and time again as he passed the lovers who congregated by the Fountain of Leucine. Actions that dedicated promises to one another.

“I swear, once I’ve traveled enough, once I grow bored of foreign scenery, I’ll fall back down like rain to your side.” You whisper into the kiss.

It was his turn now, and he shall honor this ritual. Tenderly bringing in your hand to him, Neuvillette places his oath.

“Then I swear, when you return, I’ll tell you my name.” He whispers in the kiss.

The sterile rooms echo your airy chuckles as he keeps your hand close to himself for just a bit longer.

“Mmm… Where I should go first? Maybe I’ll just amble about,” you ponder aloud.

Gracing him with a smile which stretched your face and brought that familiar glimmer into your eyes.

“I wish you well on your travels.” Neuvillette presses another kiss into your knuckles.

–

Spring was always the rainy season for Fontaine, with gentle temperate showers to welcome the budding blooms back from their Winter sleep.

However, this year the torrential downpour was anything but gentle.

Planned trips canceled for the season, clothes remaining damp in baskets, and streets empty of their vigor. Even the Melusines couldn’t bring a skip to their steps.

It was as if time itself was slowed by the burdensome downpour.

The cawing of crows as their wings beat against the dreary winds adds to the lonely hymn sung by the raindrops.

At once the cadence of the rain increased, the downpour growing heavier, and the violent pattering grew deafening. As if the sky was now belting out their sorrowful ballad.

The rain could try. The skies can cry all they would like. But time, a cruel and unforgiving mistress, won’t ever stop.

To have loved and been loved, was it truly enough?

In Neuvillete’s eyes, he was the tide and you were the shore. The ebb and flow of water as the tide and shore met, time and time again.

Each crash into the shore stirred up something perplexing and disorderly within the tide, irritating like the sand that mixed into the pristine waves.

So the tide tried to retreat into the lonesome ocean.

Each time, the shore followed through grains of sand which the tide couldn’t ever seem to purge himself of.

Each time, the shore beckoned the tide to return to the sandy beaches of humanity filled with perplexities and disorder.

And each time, the tide surrendered to the call of the shore, lured in by its warmth.

But now, the shore has eroded away.

Where does the tide go now?

Drifting now in the vastness of a lonesome ocean, carrying nothing but grains of sand. What shall the tide do now?

Neuvillette still has a lot to learn, for he couldn’t answer this riddle conjured by his own mind.

Unable to stop himself, the lone dragon stares off into the rain.

Eyes honing in the direction of a peaceful hill, one where a mother and child were laid to rest side by side overlooking a homeland they never got to visit.

Maybe that was the first destination of your journey.

During these past short years spent in this land, the young successor of the dragons has gained traitorous knowledge. One that undermines his preconceived purpose.

Neuvillette feels he’s grasped onto the faintest inkling of why humans, as fickle, perplexing, and fleeting as they are, were still the most beloved creatures of the gods.

Perhaps, he even understands now why those usurpers were willing to uproot the earth just for those beloved creatures.

The wet season transitions into the dry season, then the dry season will transition into another wet season. Again and again, on and on as the hands of a clock ticks forward.

Each new tick signifies another step forward in the march of time.

Each step brings change and each step pulls the present away from the past.

The rainy season of Spring was no longer as troublesome as it once was, as there was now a machine on the market that could dry clothes without the help of a bright star.

Melusines skip along down the paved paths of the Court of Fontaine as humans turn to greet them with endearing smiles.

New cafes line bustling streets as Clockwork Mekas make their evening patrols.

A great many changes have come to Fontaine, Neuvillette witnessed them all from his office at the Palais Mermonia.

A great many changes, yet some things are bound to stay the same. For example, the Chief Justice’s fondness for strolls along vacant riverbanks.

The gentle patters of raindrops lull the chaotic sympathy of trials, paperwork, and duties to a standstill. Reaching a hand out in front of him, Neuvillette catches a few drops in the palm of his gloved hand.

Lilac eyes examine the diminutive puddle in his hand before ultimately releasing the water back to the earth.

He supposes he’s been feeling a bit nostalgic as of late, like a child recalling a story which once soothed them to a peaceful slumber. How childish it was for him to believe he could somehow catch a certain raindrop in his hands.

Turning up toward the drab sky, he searches through the endless and identical droplets that fall down and leave trails along his face.

No, not yet. Perhaps they have yet to see all that the sky has to offer.

Neuvillette returns his focus to the path in front of him. The rhythmic clacks of his shoes match with the soft drumming of the rain, and in the midst of this harmony a voice sings out:

“Hydro dragon… uh… Hydro dragon, don’t cry.”

Halting his stride. Judging by the unfamiliarity of their tongue pronouncing the lullaby, Neuvillette deduces they must be a visitor to Fontaine.

Ah that local legend, just how far has it spread? Nevertheless, an unfortunate traveler who’s unfamiliar with Fontaine’s seasons is now caught in this rain.

It would only be polite to offer them some assistance as the Iudex of this nation. Thus, he turns in the direction of the call.

His suspicions were confirmed once his gaze landed on a distressed frame, their face obscured by the jacket they held over their head in a makeshift umbrella.

It only took a few steps for the towering man to make it to their side.

“There is a tree you can take shelter under just ahead,” he advises the lost traveler.

Now aware of his presence in front of them, they lifted the jacket from their line of sight to peer up at him. Revealing the details of their face to lilac eyes for the first time.

That was all it took for the symphony of rain to come to an end.

Soft drumming decrescendos into tranquility. It seems as if there will be an earlier welcome of flowers.

“Oh?” You gaze up at the azure hue now peeking out from receding gray, astonishment reflected in the glimmer of your eyes.

You’ve only heard of a local Fontainian legend from a guide pamphlet offered to tourists as you awaited the Aquabus.

When the rain suddenly began to pour as you ambled about a riverside, in a moment of desperation as you scrambled for shelter under a thin jacket you uttered the phrase.

You weren’t sure if the hydro dragon could understand your botched pronunciation, but it looks like he did.

Turning back to face the kind stranger, you wanted to convey your amazement to him. But the words fade just off the tip of your tongue when you peek back at the towering man.

Your eyebrows scrunch together as dumbstruck eyes widen at the sight of the drenched man.

“Mister?… Are you alright?” You scan over him, turning your attention away to sift through your pockets.

How bewildering it must be for you to witness a well-dressed and noble figure drenched to the bone. However, Neuvillette made no attempt to stop the rivulets rolling down his cheeks, a parting gift from the Spring showers.

He wonders as his gaze never left your frame, were tears perhaps this warm too?

“Here.” Your concern-ridden hand offers up a neatly folded handkerchief to the drenched man.

As your eyes connect with his, a strange sensation tickled the back of your mind. As if it was trying to recall where you’ve seen the familiar lavender hue.

Maybe they matched the shade of a flower field you stumbled upon during your travels, or maybe that lilac luster was revealed to you in a dream.

A strange familiarity you couldn’t name.

“Thank you very much.” He accepts the simple piece of cloth with tenderness rivaling that of conservators handing the renowned paintings of old masters.

The clouds were long gone by now, perhaps they felt that their purpose had long been fulfilled. The golden rays of a lone star shone with all their brilliance, finally free from behind their blanket of drap clouds.

It was only now that Neuvillette found out. The rain he had been yearning for all these years did in fact see all that the sky had to offer.

They had grown bored of drifting over vast plains, missing the picturesque countryside of Fontaine. Or perhaps their curiosity grew too great, wishing to finally hear a truth that was kept from them.

So much so, they quietly fell down from the sky, to return to his side again.

Much like the hands in a clock, the cycle of water and earth follows a similar circular path.

The rain had eroded away stubborn earth with its diligent drumming over the years.

Bit by bit and piece by piece until stone fractures into bits of sand. Over and over until a sandy beach was formed by the side of a patient sea.

Then the tide will reunite with its long-awaited shore, to return the sand and promise it cradled within its waves for so long.

~Fin

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ellecdc · 11 months ago

Text

Come Back, Be Here (part 7)

p1 // p2 // p3 // p4 // p5 // p6 // p7 // p8

Sirius Black x fem!reader - First Wizarding War Order of the Phoenix - 4.5K

CW: mentions of past abuse/torture, amnesia, healing/blood and injury, Bellatrix's cursed knife, angst, hurt/comfort, use of Y/N, character death

Synopsis: After sacrificing yourself to save your friend and Order partner James months before, you're found on the brink of death. It's now October 31st, and the Order has a plan.

Narcissa Black Malfoy was many things. She was a daughter, a sister, a cousin, a wife, a new mother, a Malfoy, and a Black. She was a proud pureblood, a cunning Slytherin, a noble woman, a powerful witch, and exceedingly loyal.

It was this last trait that seemed to be causing her the most problems, however.

Loyalty.

It was her loyalty that caused her to bite her tongue and smile when her husband announced that he had joined the ranks of the Dark Lord, who promised to bring the purebloods glory and to protect them from the likes of muggles and mudblood’s who were threatening their way of life. It was because of her loyalty that when her sister asked her to hide something of grave importance to the Dark Lord, even though the object exuded Darkness and Evil, she hid it in the rafters of their attic.

And it was because of her loyalty that when her baby cousin showed up at Malfoy Manor covered in blood, ash, and rubble with a lifeless body hanging limp in his arms begging for her help that she responded with, ‘bring her to the cellar’.

Narcissa needn’t wonder how she got here; she knew all too well. She was loyal, and she protected her own.

When exactly her disowned blood-traitor Gryffindor cousin’s muggle-born partner became one of her own, Narcissa wasn’t sure.

(The day you ‘died’)

“What have you done!?” Narcissa gritted through her teeth as she pulled the clothing off of the nearly-dead-witch’s body.

“’Cissa, please, I couldn’t leave her there-”

“Why not!?”

“She’s – she’s Sirius’, she’s...” Regulus took a steadying breath. “She’s Sirius’, Narcissa.”

“For crying out loud.” Narcissa growled. She wanted to argue, she wanted to scream and curse and tell him to dump this witch back where he’d found her. But she knew...

She knew she would have likely done the same.

When her son Draco was born, Narcissa had never felt so alone; her mother was long passed, her father was distant and cold, Bellatrix was insane, and she had long ago lost her favourite sister.

She thought at that moment of Andromeda and her husband and daughter.

If this had been Ted Tonks lying nearly dead on a hastily conjured drafting table, or their daughter Nymphadora...

Narcissa knew; her dog-like loyalty and her dragon-like possessiveness knew no bounds.

So, she pulled on all the blasted magic she could think of – light, dark, and ancient. Types of Oriental, coastal, Scandinavian and Aboriginal magic; anything and everything she could possibly think of to bring this witch back from the brink of death.

Spending her life as a dedicated pureblood meant spending a lot of time hiding away in libraries – no one could scold you for it, and you could hide away from whatever nonsense they were currently shoving down your throat. She thanked the deities for all of that time spent researching now.

Thoroughly exhausted and covered in another person’s blood, Narcissa stepped back as the witch finally took a breath on her own.

“Thank you, Narcissa.”

“Do not go thanking me yet, cousin.” Narcissa huffed. “What exactly is it you plan to do with her?”

Regulus stared dumbly at her. “Uhm...well, return her?”

Narcissa rolled her eyes. “Right, and then the Dark Lord suspects a traitor amongst his followers and kills us all for the act of disloyalty. Really cousin, did you hit your head in this battle or something?”

“Well, what do you suggest I do then, Narcissa, since you are clearly so much smarter than I?” He questioned hotly.

“This is not my mess, Regulus. You should have left her there to die.”

“Why?”

“What do you mean, why?” Narcissa asked incredulously.

“Why should she have to die? Hm? Because she was born into the wrong family? Does that make her evil? Fate does not make us evil, Narcissa; choices do. I did not choose to live as a pureblood, I was only born into this life. But I chose to follow the Dark Lord, and I chose to join this war. I choose to aim my wand at people who raise their wands in defense whilst I wield mine in hope for power and glory. So why her? Why should she die while I go home to eat from my silver spoon that was promised to me at birth?”

Narcissa balked at her cousin. “Regulus, what - what are you saying?”

But Regulus did not have a chance to respond before Lucius Malfoy, Severus Snape and Barty Crouch Junior followed a small house-elf down the stairs into the cellar.

“My, my, don’t tell me you’ve plundered some booty for us, dear Reggie!” Barty exclaimed excitedly.

“What, pray tell, is the meaning of this?” Snape asked as he eyed Regulus and Narcissa skeptically.

“We were wondering where everyone got to – oh.” Mulciber added as he stepped down into the cellar with Goyle trailing behind him.

“I found her at the set-up.” Regulus said plainly after throwing up a hasty occlusion behind his eyes.

“I see. And why exactly is she here.” Snape asked again.

“Did you...heal her?” Lucius guffawed.

“Why waste your energy on a pathetic mudblood?” Mulciber asked.

Narcissa stayed quiet and allowed Regulus to swim his way out of this on his own. She would not risk her own life protecting his mistake.

But what made it a mistake?

Narcissa had never once questioned the pureblood rhetoric that her parents entrenched in her. Not when she first stepped foot into Hogwarts. Not when she watched her classmates get bullied and harassed for their muddy blood. Not when it was announced she would be wed to her own cousin upon graduating from Hogwarts when she was only twelve years old, and not even when she was again announced to be wed to Lucius Malfoy instead at thirteen, after said cousin was sorted into the wrong house – bringing disgrace to the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black; and not even when her older sister defected from the family by falling in love with a filthy mudblood.

She looked at Regulus then. As the baby of the family, Regulus had seen all of this. He had witnessed the announcement of his big brother’s betrothal to his first cousin when Sirius was only ten years old. He saw the fallout and witnessed Sirius be ignored, embarrassed, and humiliated that first summer home after being sorted into the wrong house. He watched Sirius get tortured, brutalized, and starved every summer after that until he left home for good. He watched Andromeda be chastised and forced to choose between her family and her heart for falling in love with the wrong person. He watched Bellatrix descend into madness as she became more and more involved with Dark Magic.

Regulus, the baby of the family, had witnessed all of this.

Narcissa thought of her own baby then, upstairs being looked after by a house-elf whilst she was downstairs with her husband and his house guests while they argued over who had more of a right to this unconscious witch’s body than the others.

Did Regulus make a mistake?

Did she?

“Hmph, well, we’ll see how long this lasts.” Mulciber spat at Regulus before the five newcomers moved back upstairs leaving Narcissa alone with Regulus and the witch.

Narcissa watched as Regulus used Legillimency to peer inside the witch’s mind before he spoke. “You’re awake.”

The only response Regulus got was the tightening of the witch’s eyes.

“Squeezing your eyes shut will not change the fact that I know you are awake.” He commented with an eyeroll.

Narcissa watched as Regulus continued to monitor the witch.

“Yes, I am talking to you.” Regulus responded verbally.

A beat of silence.

“Very elegant.” He muttered.

“Indeed, you are.” He quipped again.

Narcissa watched as you peeled your eyes open and blinked against the light above you; she heard your neck crack loudly as you turned your head towards Regulus before your face fell.

“You can’t be serious?” You rasped disbelievingly.

“Close, but no.” Regulus smirked as he stood and moved toward the table you were lying on. “The name is Regulus. Regulus Arcturus Black.”

Narcissa watched as a look of panic crossed your features as you took in Regulus.

“I don’t suppose you happen to know occlumency, do you?”

You shook your head in response.

“Shame. Well, for your sake, I hope you are a quick learner.” Regulus said before he stupefied you.

“This just got an awful lot more complicated, Regulus.” Narcissa commented quietly.

“I know.” Regulus sighed before he turned to his cousin. “Narcissa, please, will you help me?”

Narcissa looked between her cousin – the only relative she really had left – and the unconscious witch beside him. Suddenly, the witch wasn’t just a nearly dead burden – she was a chance. An opportunity for more. An opportunity to do better. An opportunity to have better.

“I do not want this life for my son.” Narcissa admitted quietly.

“What?”

“I do not want Draco growing up worried about who he will be betrothed to before we even send him off to Hogwarts. I do not want him watching children be jinxed or hexed for being born to the wrong family – or worse – be the child jinxing or hexing them. I do not want to watch him slowly lose every single person that ever meant anything to him because they could not adhere to the same drivel. I do not want this life for him.” She took a deep breath.

“I want more for him, Regulus. I want better.”

Regulus searched Narcissa’s face for a few moments before nodding.

“Let’s do better, then.”

October 31st

“Okay, explain the plan to me one more time.” You muttered as you continued to pace a hole through Narcissa’s vintage Persian rug. Regulus fought the urge to groan and repeated the plan that Dumbledore had discussed with him for a third time.

“Remus Lupin has been made secret keeper of the currently vacant cottage in Godric’s Hollow. He, as Peter Pettigrew, will meet the Dark Lord in the town square of Godric’s Hollow at eight o’clock tonight. He will then escort the Dark Lord to Potter’s cottage where I will be in the form of James Potter and Narcissa in the form of Lily Potter. Apparently, to no one’s surprise, Sirius has demanded he be there – so Sirius will be there in his animagus form as will Professor McGonagall, and Dumbledore will be hidden under Potter’s invisibility cloak. Dumbledore has the sword of Gryffindor, and Narcissa was able to purchase Basilisk venom from Borgin & Burkes on Knockturn Alley, which means the Order will be able to slay Nagini without resorting to unforgiveables. I, however, will have no qualms firing an avada at the Dark Lord, so we will see how the rest plays out. Either way, he will die.” Regulus spouted in monotone.

You seemed to consider this as you continued pacing. “And I...”

“And you are staying here.” He said with finality.

“Why?” You asked petulantly. Regulus did not find it at all endearing.

“Because you have to look after Draco.” Narcissa offered.

You softened at the mention of the boy but seemed unconvinced. “You have a manor full of house-elves; I’m sure Dobby wouldn’t mind-”

“It has to be you, Y/N.” Narcissa said. “It needs to be someone who will not be swayed, regardless of who shows up and starts barking orders.”

Your head fell back in resignation as you looked at the ceiling.

“Okay?” Regulus asked quietly.

“Okay.” You admitted in defeat, bringing your gaze back to him.

Regulus offered you as kind a smile as the youngest Black and a chronic Slytherin could manage. “Your nose is bleeding again.”

“God damnit.” You muttered as you conjured a tissue into your hand and held it to your nose. More and more of your memories were flooding back in, and - just as the Healer had suggested - it was extremely painful. Not only were you now privy to migraines, nose bleeds, and the occasional seizure; you had an overwhelming sense of anxiety laying its damned wet blanket over you. You were somewhat annoyed that your memories appeared to be attacking you now when you would have benefitted from not remembering all of the reasons why this plan had to go just right.

“Why did it have to be Halloween?” You muttered miserably.

“Why did it have to be Halloween?” James whined. “I love Halloween.”

Lily patted her husband’s shoulder in sympathy, though neither her face nor her tone held any warmth. “You can love Halloween next year.”

James and Lily stood in the doorway of 12 Grimmauld place with Harry strapped to James’ chest. Sirius triple checked their bags before shrinking them down and putting them into a backpack and placing it onto Lily’s shoulders.

“Okay, explain the plan to me one more time.” He ordered the Potter’s.

Lily and James shared a quick glance before the former rolled her eyes.

“We’re heading to an undisclosed location. We are to set up protection wards the second we get there, and we are not to leave until Sirius’ patronus reaches us. If, in the event that we do not receive a patronus from Sirius or Moony in the next two days, we are to assume that the plan has failed. In that case, we are to begin heading west via muggle transportation and make our way to Ireland before boarding a flight to Canada where we are to remain for the rest of our lives.” She relayed to him in monotone.

Sirius beamed at her and kissed her cheek. “Right-o, Red! But, not to worry, you’ll be hearing from my patronus in no time.”

Remus watched with a small smile from the staircase. He knew Sirius was trying to stay positive mostly for himself; he’s been in such a state since you were taken, and he was running on fumes waiting with bated breath for this to be over so you could return home - return to him. He had so many questions about so many things; questions for you, questions for Regulus, questions for Dumbledore. Remus watched his friend become manic, almost as if Sirius was the one expecting the full moon at the beginning of next week. The friends tried to stay patient with him, but they were all looking forward to this being over.

“It’s me and my family they’re after, I should be here to end this.” James muttered.

“And you’re our family, Prongs. So, we’re here to end this.” Sirius responded.

“He didn’t just threaten you and Lily and Haz, he threatened all of us.” Remus added.

“I owe her my life, guys. I owe it to Vix to see this through.” He responded, shifting his gaze between his two friends.

Sirius’ eyes welled at the thought before he quickly shoved his feelings back down into his stomach – he’d deal with those later; for now, he had a megalomaniac to kill.

“You’ll have the rest of your life to make it up to her, Prongs.” He offered with as much a smile as he could muster.

James gave his friend a sad smile of his own before enveloping him in a bone crushing hug.

“I’ll see you soon, Pads.”

“Once the mischief is managed.” Sirius answered.

As Lily, James and Harry left Grimmauld place and apparated to location unknown, Remus and Sirius exchanged a look.

“Ready to finish this?” Sirius asked Remus.

“I’ve never been more ready for anything in my life.”

The clock tower in Godric’s Hollow’s town square rang signifying eight o’clock. Remus tried rubbing his clammy hands against his cloak, not wanting his hands to be slick when it came time to brandish his wand. Thankfully, with the full moon this close, and it (by the grace of every god) seeming to be a ‘manic moon’, Remus was at his strongest, and he would not be letting that go to waste.

The rancid smell of dark magic permeated Remus’ senses signifying the arrival of Voldemort and his last horcrux.

“My dear boy,” Voldemort sang out, “are you ready to face victory in the name of your Lord.”

“Absolutely, my Lord, it is my honour to help you see this through.” He responded verbatim to what Dumbledore coached him on.

“Lead the way.”

So, Remus did.

In what felt like a death march, Remus (as Peter Pettigrew), a twelve-foot snake and melted-wax figure looking Tom Riddle made their way to the Potter’s cottage in Godric’s Hollow. Remus listened to the sound of his heartbeat and Nagini’s skin sliding along the gravel lane as he unlatched the hook of the fence and made his way up to the door.

He looked behind him to see Voldemort smiling victoriously at the house as it materialized in front of him. Remus turned back to the red painted door and knocked three times, paused, knocked once, paused, knocked twice more.

“Come in!” The sound of Lily’s voice filtered through the wood of the door and Remus heaved a breath before opening it in front of him.

“Hey Pete!” James greeted as Remus stepped inside. “We just put the kid to bed, glad you could come by.”

Remus watched as James turned his back to the door and continued toward the kitchen whilst Voldemort and Nagini let themselves in. With a quick flick of Remus’ wand, the door shut and locked behind them. No way out now, fucker.

“Come on in, Peter! I’m just making something to drink, would you like one?” Lily called from somewhere in the house as the trio continued in, watching as a cat wandered its way towards the kitchen seemingly unawares of the company behind it.

As they passed a hallway leading to a half-bath, Padfoot began to bark.

“Oh, come now Pads, it’s just Peter! You know him.” James said as he came back out into the hallway where he saw his good friend Peter in the company of Nagini and Voldemort.

Voldemort whispered something in parseltongue and in response, Nagini poised to lunge.

When the snakes body elongated and her neck stretched as she launched to sink her fangs into James, Sirius had turned back into his regular form, and with the sword of Gryffindor swung at the snake, severing its head from the rest of its body; the snake’s body and its head fell to the ground with a sickening wet thud.

“No!” Voldemort cried before Dumbledore ripped the invisibility cloak from his form and Lily exited the kitchen. Suddenly, the forms of Lily, James and Peter and the actual Dumbledore, McGonagall and Sirius stood with their wands aimed at Voldemort.

“What have you done?” Voldemort seethed at Remus. Remus smirked in response.

“I won.” He said simply.

Voldemort growled as he pulled his wand from his cloak, blocking an expelliarmus from Dumbledore and a bombarda from Sirius.

“Incarcerous!” McGonagall shouted and Voldemort was bound by invisible restraints.

Dumbledore stupefied the flailing Tom Riddle and the six exchanged glances.

“Did...did we do it? Did we just...stop Voldemort?” Sirius whispered.

“It feels sort of anti-climactic, does it not?” Lily asked before she cast a quick finite over herself, revealing Narcissa Black. Remus opted to follow suit and shed the skin of his rat of a friend.

“Narcissa?!” Sirius balked, earning him a smirk.

“Hello, cousin.”

“But, why? How?” he asked.

James followed suit and cast a finite, melting away the enchantment and leaving behind the form of Regulus Black, causing Sirius to choke back tears.

“Reggie...” he whispered reverently.

“Sirius.” Regulus responded with a curt nod, seemingly unable to meet his brothers’ eyes.

A sob tore its way through Sirius as he lunged himself at Regulus and embraced his little brother. “I can’t believe you’re alive.”

“Disappointed?” Regulus asked, seemingly unable to figure out what to do with his own arms which were pinned under Sirius’ grasp.

“No, not in the slightest.” Sirius answered honestly as he pulled himself back from his brother only to bring his hands up to clasp either side of his brother’s face and scrutinize him. “You’re really okay?”

Regulus’ brows scrunched together at his brother’s words. “Could be worse.” Regulus responded in a whisper.

“Why don’t we catch up later, once we have everyone together again?” Narcissa offered with a soft smile. This seemed to snap Sirius into action.

“Yes! Okay, yes. Let’s go get Y/N and then we can send the Potter’s a patronus!” He exclaimed as if were a child being told they were heading to the mall to meet Santa.

Remus chuckled and even Regulus seemed to smirk at his brother.

“You go, Minerva and I will escort Mr. Riddle here to the Ministry.” Dumbledore said with a wink at his four former students. “Thank you all, for your bravery and cunningness today.”

The four offered Dumbledore varying levels of smiles: Remus a wide one, Narcissa a polite one, Regulus’ looked more like a grimace and Sirius’ mouth stayed downturned as they watched the headmaster and deputy headmistress leave with Voldemort in tow.

“Let’s get the band back together.” Remus announced, and Narcissa held out a portkey for Remus and Sirius to use to travel to Malfoy Manor.

“See you there.” Narcissa said as she and Regulus spun and apparated to return to you.

Regulus and Narcissa were just heading toward the vine covered gate when Remus and Sirius fell unceremoniously from the sky.

“Fuck, I hate portkey’s” Sirius commented as he stood with a grimace and wiped grass stains off his jacket.

“Don’t be so dramatic.” Narcissa commented from her place as the two men joined her.

“That’s like asking a fish not to swim, dear Cissy.” Sirius responded with a smirk.

Narcissa gave him a fond eyeroll before leading the way to the hidden library.

“PUT THE BOY DOWN!” The shrill voice of Bellatrix could be heard. The sound caused each of their throats to tighten as they all took off in a run towards the library.

“Get away from us!” Sirius heard you shout back.

As the four of them rounded the corner, Sirius saw you standing with a crying Draco Malfoy in your one arm as you bounced him consolingly while your wand was in the other aimed at Bellatrix in front of you. Behind Bellatrix stood Barty Crouch Junior and Mulciber.

“Bella!” Narcissa called causing the witch to turn her onyx gaze on her for a second, though her wand never faltered in its aim at you.

“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE, NARCISSA?!” She screeched.

“Bellatrix, get away from my son this instant.” Narcissa barked. Remus took this opportunity to try to move closer to you and Draco, which earned a purple spell being shot at him from Junior’s wand.

Suddenly emersed in some kind of gothic-style Western standoff, every witch and wizard in the library had their wands pointed at someone and someone’s wand pointed at them. One errant sneeze and someone would avada or be avada’d.

“Bella, you’re frightening Draco.” Narcissa tried quietly.

“He’s frightened, Cissa, because you’ve left him alone with the likes of a FILTHY MUDBLOOD.”

“It’s over, Bellatrix.” Sirius shouted. “Voldemort has been captured, he’s on his way to Azkaban as we speak.”

Bellatrix’s already rage filled face contorted in pure outrage. As the Death Eaters were distracted by the news of their leaders down fall, Regulus and Remus began duelling with Mulciber and Junior. Narcissa and Sirius both shot curses and hexes at Bellatrix at the same time, but she quickly defected.

“You, you-you FILTHY BLOOD TRAITOR. You’ve betrayed your kind and defied OUR LORD, YOU INSOLENT-” As Bellatrix continued to rage, you began to slowly side-step your way over to Narcissa and Sirius while cooing at Draco. Sirius kept his gaze locked on you as you kept yours on Bellatrix, and both of your wands stayed on their mark. Remus had Mulciber in a muggle choke hold looking far too pleased with himself as Regulus cast an expeliarmus at Junior.

“YOU SHOULD BE DEAD! I KNEW BETTER THAN TO LET THOSE STUPID, STUPID MEN USE YOU AS THEIR PLAYTHING.” Bellatrix seethed at you, now standing directly beside Sirius, keeping the arm holding Draco just behind him. “YOU WEREN’T EVEN GOOD ENOUGH FOR A WHORE!”

At this, Sirius shot a curse at her which she deflected and began rallying more off. Bellatrix brought her other hand up to her hair and then swung her hand forward. Flying towards Sirius, you and Draco was Bellatrix’s cursed blade.

Narcissa took but half a step to her right, placing herself directly in front of you as she cast an avada kadavra at her sister. Bellatrix’s eyes rolled back as she fell to the ground with a thud and the room became deathly quiet save Draco’s sniffles.

“Oh my gods.” Sirius breathed.

Remus and Regulus were readying their captives for the Auror department as Sirius turned to face his cousin, only to find her holding her chest as blood seeped through her robes and fingers.

Narcissa slowly began sinking to the ground as you gasped and held Draco’s head to your shoulder to shield his view.

“Cissa, no!” Sirius cried as he helped lower his cousin onto the rug. Narcissa took some gasping breaths as she looked at Sirius and you, and then at her son.

“Y/N.” Narcissa called weakly.

“I’m here, Narcissa.” You offered through a sob.

“Take care of my son. Take care of Draco, please.” She begged you.

She turned her gaze to Sirius. “I want better for him. I don’t-I don’t want...” She trailed off as she choked, blood appearing in the corners of her mouth. “I don’t want him to be raised with so much hate. I want – I want him to only know love.”

She looked back to you as you bounced her son back and forth. “Make sure he knows love for me?”

You nodded emphatically as tears trailed down your face. “I promise to do good by you; both of you. He will always be safe with us, Narcissa.”

“And loved.” Sirius added.

Narcissa smiled at the two of you. “Thank you.” She said as she closed her eyes and let out a shuddering breath.

Narcissa Black Malfoy was many things. She was a daughter, a sister, and a cousin. She was a wife, and new mother. She was a Slytherin, a noble woman, and a powerful witch.

Narcissa Black Malfoy was extremely loyal. And it was this last trait that cost Narcissa her life.

Continue to the finale here.

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dunmeshistash · 29 days ago

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Hello! I thought Laios's eyes were just very light brown cuz in my reading experience yellow/golden eyes were a sign of a werewolf. Or that your (grand)parent was a god/dragon/fairy/vampire etc. Or a wolf cursed into human form by an evil witch (this one's pretty cliché now, and rarely used). But Laios and Falin are perfectly normal tallman, and tallman are just like real life humans I believe. I guess I thought unusual eyes colors meant unusual people?

Not all fantasy worlds work the same, in Dungeon Meshi some characters have really unusual eyes but it doesn't mean anything about them being special or not.

If anything there's a type of unfounded meaning given by the certain traits like eyes and hair color by the in world culture, but that are merely visual (looks different but aren't associated with anything else as far as we know) like the silver eyes and hair that's expected from Mithrun's family and the obsidian skin and red eyes that are traits of royalty, both are visually unique but don't make them any different from other people, so much so that Mithrun is a bastard with his family desired traits while his brother is a legitimate son without the traits.

There's also Kabru's eyes that caused his family to fall apart even tho it was also based on meaning given to it .

I think it fits with Kui's storytelling and worldbuilding that minor physical characteristics don't really mean much more than the meaning we give them.

I think eye color, pupil or no pupil, shine or no shine etc etc is more a character design choice Kui makes to better express what kind of characters they are (where they're from, like Eastern archipelago people having dark eyes, what race they are with elves having the more striking/detailed pupils, their personality etc etc)

Kui might have an artstyle that's less "Animu" than what some might be used to but it is still in that style, in animanga eyes are a pretty common way to express what kind of person the character should be perceived as at a glance, that's why the eyes are often so big. So the golden eyes in Falin and Laios are probably so we recognize them as main characters and so we recognize them as siblings

Hope this made some sense let me know if I got anything wrong or said something that doesn't sound right

#Dungeon Meshi #Ryoko Kui #Meta ask #Character Design #Eyes #Anonymous #dungeon meshi spoilers #Laios #Laios Touden #Falin #Falin Touden #I don't really know that much about character design but I think that's about right?

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thebadboyfanclub · 1 year ago

Text

I Don’t Think I Can Do This (Daemon x Reader)

Hey y’all so I know I was supposed to write another request but my job has cause my imagination to ran dry and this was certainly easier cause i wanted to write something that shows the burden that women carry and also that Daemon is a very grey character, I hope you guys like it

The story of (y/n) Eaglemore and Daemon Targaryen did not start as a love story, one would suppose that seems to be a common trait amongst the concept of arranged marriages, especially to a young maiden of an independent kingdom to the rogue prince Targaryen, their marriage was the establishment of Eaglemore joining their forces with the Targaryens, (y/n) was dressed in her traditional attire with her hair in an intricate style, she was breath of fresh air in the house of the dragons, a proud Eagle that was brave enough to fly with the dragons as the flag with the colors of red and black flew next to the black and red she assumed the similarities were bound as an omen for success.

That was quickly ripped out of her mind at the bedding ceremony that she endured, the prince was not brutal, yet she had hoped that he would forbid it, he was cold and only placed a kiss at the top of her head after it was done before he left her laying while the ones that observed it cleared the room, tears streamed down from embarrassment while the handmaidens helped her get up to assist her with her bath.

“Husband!”

She exclaimed excitedly before she skipped over to Daemon who was preoccupied with having a conversation with Viserys was much more important than turning his head to face her, alas the newlywed stood by his side and reached for his hand to get his attention, innocently she squeezed it only to be met with an annoyed expression as he gazed intensely at her.

“What?! (Y/n)! Did they not teach basic manners in your homeland?”

“I-I just, I wanted to give you this, I sewed it for you, it’s the dragon symbol with the eagle”

“Great, give it to the handmaidens, is that all?”

Suddenly she became hyper-aware of the pie of eyes around her, mostly men that had taken interest in the scene that unfolded in the gardens, she felt like a little girl scolded by her father, she bit her lower lip as her shoulders sunk in defeat, the glimpse in her eyes slowly disappearing like a light snuffed out.

“My apologies, I did not wish to interrupt you and the king, I hope you can forgive me, y-your grace”

“It is quite alright, my dear, for what it’s worth I found your creation a wonderful gift, do not pay attention to daemon he has never been good with gifts”

“If that means I have never been good with gifts that have no use then yes, I agree”

“I shall go, excuse me, your grace, husband”

She curtsied before she ran off, her chocolate-colored hair swinging left and right in her ponytail as her eyes looked down to hide the tears that she desperately held back, Daemon watched her and could sense the damage he had caused, sometimes he would catch himself staring at her with purity and interest, he had even smiled once when she struggled to find the right word in his language.

He should have stopped, he should have held his tongue when the evident quiver of her chin started to show when her eyes bounced in different directions as she wanted to gather her composure, but he didn’t, now Daemon stood as still as a grain of salt whilst she once again ran away from him covered in shame.

“She is your lady wife Daemon, must you be so hard on her?”

“A wife that was bestowed to me”

“She is also someone that was bestowed a spouse, yet she took it with grace and is grasping desperately to create the best out of the worst, as a man that prides himself on his intelligence your lady wife has surpassed you, at least in principle and empathy”

Daemon was stunned, as Viserys spoke in such kind words his words slashed through Daemon like the sharpest of knives, this was Daemon's second marriage, and it had become second nature to be rude and unattainable to his lady wife since the bronze bitch shared the same hatred as he did for her, now the cheerful lady with the deer like eyes and red puffy cheeks had been nothing but kind, a foreign pain in his chest started to make Daemon uneasy as she ran further and out of his line of sight.

“If I were you I would be very ashamed”

(Y/n) sat in front of the mirror as one of her handmaidens lit her candles and the other brushed (y/n)s hair to prepare her for bed, (y/n) stood as still as she could though her fingers intertwined with one another and twisted in odd ways.

“Could you leave me with Chiara, please? Thank you”

(Y/n) requested softly, the young handmaiden only curtsied before she walked out of (y/n)s chamber, whilst Chiara continued to brush her hair, they had grown into a bond that (y/n) felt comfort in, Chiara was sweet and honest, somewhat older, and had just given birth to her first child, she was the first handmaiden that she met when she got to the red keep.

“Do you love your lord husband?”

“I do, now”

“What do you mean?”

“I married him per my father's request, and he gave the biggest dowry, at first it was difficult, we had to figure out a way to communicate and after a while, I like to think that he grew to love me as much as I love him, though first, we respected one another, then love came gradually”

(Y/n) grew silent, her head hanging low before she bit her lip in defeat, she respected her lord husband? Did her lord husband respect her? After the incident on the morrow, it certainly didn’t feel like it.

(Y/n) had not noticed that Chiara had scrounged in front of her and placed her hands over (y/n)s, she only saw the tears that splashed over the handmaidens' skin.

“You won’t always feel like the outsider”

“I don’t think I can do this”

“You can, it is alright my dear”

One sob came after the other as (y/n)s body shook and Chiara lovingly wrapped her arms around the lady’s frame in such delicacy, it resembled a girl hugging her porcelain doll while she tried to not crack it, in its macabre nature you could identify a certain beauty, someone that had the strength to comfort a disheveled young lady as she navigated through womanhood and all its trials.

What had (y/n) nor Chiara had taken into account was that Prince Daemon had made his way to the half-cracked door, freezing in his sport once the whimpers of agony hit his ears, he peaked through the shadows only to be met with his lady wife letting tears stain her dress and hiccups shaking her hunching back as the handmaiden rubbed circles on her back.

“Prince Daemon is a fool for not acknowledging the precious stone that is you, may the gods bless him and open his eyes before he is taken from us”

Daemon had no reason to intervene, the poor lady was right, he was a fool, here she was, a beautiful and intelligent young royalty crying over his acts, he had always longed for home, for family, and now he kicked and toyed with it.

He should be the one comforting his lady wife, to gaze upon (y/n)s puffy and red face and do his best to calm her nerves, not to be the face of her pain, shamefully he scurried away without a word, mad at his reflection that stared back at him in such high horse, he had become everything he hated, a man that did not care about anyone but himself, stopping at nothing to prove he was right.

“Good morrow”

(Y/n) did not respond, she only raised her head and nodded at Daemon that had just entered the dining area, exhausted from crying the lady felt like a family of horses had run over her, getting barely a wink of sleep, evidently so by the veins under her eyes.

(Y/n)s silence was deafening to Daemon, however, he cleared his throat and took a sit next to his lady wife, waiting for a servant to pour him some wine.

“Orange juice? I believe we do not grow these over here”

“A gift from my mother, she said orange juice in the morning is a secret to a woman’s beauty”

“She must be the most astonishing lady back in your line”

“You met her, on our wedding feast, I believe you were too busy to pay attention, like always”

The last comment was barely above a whisper still sharp as a knife right on Daemon's abdomen, Daemon only turned his gaze at her, confused by her demeanor, it wasn’t uncalled for yet it took him by surprise, she always seemed to have the ability to hide her agony at least in public.

“Mayhaps we could go to her, I’m sure she will be more than happy if her daughter visited her”

“Not if my belly is flat, as much as she wanted me to be thin for most of my life she is now sending raven after raven to just check in with my monthly bleeds”

She informed him in a mumbling tone while her hand was rubbing circles on her temples, visibly annoyed over her mother's disregard for her well-being and hyper-focused on her womb.

Daemon was taken back by her comfortability to speak over her monthly visits, brushing it off easily though since they were husband and wife after all, those matters should concern him as well, the idea of a sweet little child running to (y/n)s arms brought him joy.

“It must be uneasy, being put in this position”

“Indeed and if I am being honest, my lord husband has not been making it any easier, with my empty womb nor his attitude”

“I understand you are cross with me”

“Can you blame me? You humiliated me”

Her tone switched from my king to a hiss, her eyes spewing fire as she stared back at him, it was the first time that she dared to show her true emotions, albeit Daemon could detect that it wasn’t just an act of anger but a sense of fear was laying behind those hues of hers.

He was correct, (y/n) feared for her future, the whispers of Daemon's visits to the street of silk, the adoration for his niece, his continuing ignorance over their wedlock, it all came crashing on her chest making it unable to breathe sometimes.

“I came to break my fast with you as a sign of goodwill, I want us to work on our relation-“

“Us? There is no us, you made sure of that my prince, you have crashed all my efforts and now you dare to speak of us”

“I cannot correct my past mistakes, I can only hope that you will allow me to work on our future, you did not deserve my coldness and for that, I sincerely apologize, I only wish for your good graces and for you to allow me to show you how I truly feel for you and our wedlock”

Silence, her eyes focused on his to scatter for one ounce of a lie, alas she was left with nothing, a sigh left her lips as she sunk to her chair defeated, why did the gods curse her with such a difficult match?

“I do not know if I can love you, I tried to desperately earn your affection for so long, I have grown tired of this”

“I know you have and I do not blame you, I beg you, my sweet (y/n), let me try”

His hand had found hers to hold, the warm flesh against hers grew goosebumps, a small beam of light found its way into her soul and a ghost of a smile appeared as (y/n) glimpsed upon their hands locked together, she gave him a subtle squeeze to see if this was a dream or reality.

“I suppose trying couldn’t hurt”

“Thank you, now you must eat, your mother might be right you have lost some weight”

“My efforts of getting accustomed to your foods have not been working”

“You do not have to, we can bring a cook from your homeland, my lady wife shall eat whatever her heart contents”

“There are some delicacies that I believe you would enjoy”

“I am not very picky with food so I will try anything you put in front of me”

Chatter was something (y/n) could easily do, however, even though Daemons spirits were high, (y/n) would steal glances of caution at him, was this another scheme? Or was he genuinely craving her presence and good graces?

“I was hoping you could come to meet Caraxes later”

“I do not know if that is the best idea”

“Nonsense, Caraxes is a part of me, therefore a part of you by law, soon our children will have their eggs on their cradle, if you are surrounded by dragons you need to get used to their presence”

Requests are open!

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